Winter Prince
by Atrile
Summary: With both his mother and sister dead, Lelouch's position in the royal court hangs by a thread. Bereft of allies, deprived of kin, and surrounded by enemies on all sides, can Lelouch hunt down their killers or will he fall prey to the machinations of his enemies?
1. Trampled Daisies

Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass.

* * *

The grandiose, ancient doors boomed open, accentuated by a single word shouted in a high-pitched, adolescent voice.

"Father!"

A silent lull swept over the room, extinguishing all the chatter and talk that had been flowing back and forth between its occupants.

The young prince slowed to a stop barely an arm's length from the foot of the majestic throne and the imposing figure which sat upon it.

Hushed whispers began to take form, hardly audible, but loud enough to be noticed.

"Father!" repeated the prince, pausing for a brief, tense moment.

His voice rose, empowered by passion and bitter emotion, "Mother has been unjustly stolen from this world. Nunnally, my beloved, gentle sister, has been robbed of her eyes and legs. Why then, are you not moved to action? I demand answers. I demand bloody retribution, suffering inflicted on those who have inflicted suffering."

Charles zi Britannia stood up from his throne, gazing down at the small figure beneath him.

His loud voice boomed, "You want answers, boy? The answer is simple. There is no such thing as 'unjust', not in the real world. The idea of injustice is a concept for the weak to take comfort in when faced with those stronger than them. And your mother and sister? They were weak, simply too weak."

Lelouch's small fists tightened, shaking uncontrollably. He met the emperor's gaze and returned a terse reply, "Father, you imply that Nunnally has no place in this world."

Charles chortled loudly, a brief interlude of amusement in his otherwise unyielding composure.

"You understand well, boy. But I am not without compassion. I offer a choice for one as weak and unnecessary as her – the choice to live."

Lelouch's eyes narrowed, the cold, hate-filled glare appearing unnatural on such a youthful, small face.

He spat out, "You mean exile. A choice between exile and death. No father of mine would condemn his flesh and blood so cruelly."

Charles frowned. "I misjudged you, boy. Your sister may be weak of body, but you are weak of heart. Too weak, simply too weak. You have no place here. Take heart, you will be joining your sister."

The prince clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth furiously. Any traces of disbelief and hope faded, replaced only by pure hatred and anguished fury.

Lelouch uttered, "So be it," swiftly turning on his heel and storming out of the room.

In his wake, a loud din roared into existence as various nobility began to gossip about what they had just witnessed.

* * *

Lelouch smiled weakly as he watched his sister's sleeping face, which held none of the bitter regret and indescribable sadness etched on his face. To him, it was incredible how innocent and carefree her expression looked. It was entrancing and beautiful, a stark contrast to the dirty politicking and back-stabbing which he had briefly interrupted hours ago.

He whispered gently, "I'm sorry, Nunnally. Our home … isn't ours anymore. We're going far east, near the Chinese Federation, to this place called Japan. I hear they have good food there, I hope you'll like it. I've also read that they have a lot of hot springs which are supposed to be good for health, maybe you'll enjoy that. "

Lelouch stood up, placing the vase on the nearby bedside table.

"Look, I brought you flowers. They're your favorite ... daisies."

He sat back down, lost in thought.

There was a period of silence, comfortable but not awkward – simply a brother watching over his injured, sleeping sister.

Lelouch cleared his throat.

"Something like this … I'll never let it happen again. No one will be able to touch us, no one. This time, I was too … weak to stop this, too _powerless_ to do anything at all. But I'll find out who was responsible, and _make them pay_. And then I'll get stronger, stronger than anyone else."

He paused and clenched his jaw, the unsuppressed fury aging his youthful face.

"…Strong enough to _protect you_, no matter what."

Lelouch closed his eyes and released a deep, heavy sigh, the tension flowing from his frame. And then he stood up, leaning over the bed and placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Get well soon, Nunnally."

As he exited the room, the lights flickered briefly.

* * *

The crescent moon was sinking into the horizon, with barely any moonlight illuminating the courtyard. Lelouch frowned – it was too cold, just too damn cold. All of the daisies in the garden had died, unable to survive the winter without necessary preparations. The royal gardeners had gone on strike, for some reason or the other – he honestly couldn't remember why, just that Father had ordered them all executed.

Nunnally and Euphemia had protested slightly, to no avail. Clovis had even thrown a small tantrum, mainly because one of the gardeners had been responsible for setting up his art exhibitions. Personally, he didn't think much of Clovis's new-found hobby. To him, Clovis's drawings could hardly be called art, but few could say no to a member of the royal family.

As Lelouch swept his gaze across the courtyard, he noticed light rain, barely visible but noticeable if he were to stand out in the open. It wasn't yet cold enough to snow yet though.

Suddenly, a tall man in uniform barreled down the corridor at breakneck pace. He had a strong jaw, long green hair tied off in a small ponytail at his neck, and looked to be fairly young, perhaps barely in his twenties. Most striking of all was the grief and agony radiating from his expression.

Lelouch raised his hand majestically, bringing the man to a stop right in front of him.

"Halt. What is the matter?"

The man gazed at Lelouch and his countenance was clear - deep, soulless eyes stared back at Lelouch, illuminated by the faint moonlight.

"Your Highness… Princess Nunnally has been assassinated."

For the second time today, Lelouch was overcome by unquenchable anger.

Lelouch snarled in response, "A jest in poor taste – men have died for lesser claims."

The man sank to one knee, one arm folded over his heart. Despite kneeling, his eyes were directly level with Lelouch's.

"My prince, I took an oath to serve and protect the royal family. This day, I have failed in my duty yet again. No matter how desperately I wish that was a simple jest, I cannot deny the truth. Another member of the royal family is no longer with us."

On hearing those words, Lelouch's world exploded into a whirlwind of panic and disbelief. It was utterly unthinkable. Unimaginable. Unacceptable. How could kind, gentle Nunnally be targeted once again? How could she possibly be dead, gone from this world forever?

All of the anxiety vanished abruptly, replaced with cold, unshakable resolve. He would find Nunnally and confirm the undeniable truth – that she was alive and well, resting quietly on the road to recovery.

He brushed past the kneeling guard, briskly making his way down the corridor. As he climbed the stairs he heard loud, whispered conversations which suddenly disappeared as he turned the corner.

Lelouch increased his pace as dread began to weigh down on him as heavily as the stares he felt on his back when he passed by various nobility.

When he saw the large crowd clustered right outside the door of the room Nunnally was recovering in, he broke into a sprint. The group parted as he neared, creating a neat path for him to enter.

Lelouch slowed to a crawl as he neared the threshold, each step a herculean effort, paralyzed by dread and uncertainty. His lips were a pale white, his hands shook uncontrollably.

And then he took the final step.

Nunnally was sleeping on the bed, quiet and unmoving. But a large, white cloth covered her body. Below the bed, a small, crimson pool had formed. Around her stood several uniformed men, as well as a man in a long, white coat.

Lelouch sank to his knees.

His mind was blank, empty.

A desolate void, an abyss of despair and darkness.

And then he felt nothing.

* * *

His eyes snapped open, the sound of someone knocking on the door jolting him awake. The room was pitch-dark, illuminated only by the glow of the luminescent clock on his bedside table.

Lelouch demanded loudly, "Who is it?"

In stark contrast to his loud and surly shout, the reply was delivered in a lighter, bubbly tone.

"It's me, Lulu!"

Lelouch heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. Who else could it possibly be?

And then the door swung open and she stepped forth, so radiant and bright that it sickened him.

Euphemia had always been a black sheep – no, perhaps a _white_ sheep – amongst the royal family … like Nunnally, in some ways.

Nunnally…

He laughed bitterly, but it was a hollow, empty laugh.

Euphemia frowned. "Are you okay, Lulu?"

Lelouch shook his head slowly, with the barest hint of pity in his gaze.

"You simply wouldn't understand, Euphemia."

She frowned once again, crossing her arms over her chest before angrily demanding, "What don't I understand?"

Lelouch shrugged. "What could you possibly understand?"

A flash of anger swept over Lelouch and he barked, "Nunnally is dead. Dead! What part of that don't you get? It's over, all over … nothing matters anymore."

Euphemia stared at him blankly.

The silence grew uncomfortable, and he cleared his throat.

All of a sudden, Euphemia began to sob quietly, tears welling in her eyes. Lelouch was flooded with guilt, an unpleasant mix of shame and remorse. She swept one forearm across her face, wiping away the tears rolling down.

He reached forward with one arm, hanging it in the air for a long second, before letting it drop to his side. Euphemia walked over slowly and sat down on the bed next to him, seizing a pillow to hug.

"Nunnally … was my sister too, you know. When I think about her … my chest hurts a lot and I get really sad. I came to see you because I knew you would feel really sad too, even though Nelly said not to."

Lelouch began to drown in self-loathing, a remorse beyond simple embarrassment or disgrace.

He choked out, "I'm sorry … Euphy."

Euphemia shook her head, putting the pillow down and reaching around to embrace him.

"It's okay, Lulu. We made a promise to get married, remember? Since Nunnally isn't here anymore, I have to do my best as your wife!"

Lelouch coughed spontaneously, left momentarily speechless.

"Wait, did you say Nelly? Is that Cornelia? What happened to 'Corny'?"

Euphemia nodded. "She said she'd rather be a mythical creature than a food."

Lelouch smirked. "Nelly, huh. Interesting…"

Although he hadn't been able to avoid being given a nickname, it seemed that Cornelia couldn't escape the fate either.

Euphemia continued on, "Nelly doesn't understand why I want to marry you either! She says 'she-varus' men are the best."

Lelouch covered his mouth, trying not to burst out laughing. "It's pronounced 'chivalrous', it means she likes gentlemen who have good manners and are nice."

"You mean like Gilly?"

Lelouch frowned. "Gilly…? Oh, Sir Guilford. Yes, you could call him chivalrous, he's got a fairly impressive reputation."

Euphemia nodded. "Nelly keeps a picture of him under her pillow."

He grabbed the pillow Euphemia put down and pressed his face into it to muffle his laughter. A look of concern grew on Euphemia's face as he began to shake uncontrollably.

His near-seizure was interrupted by a rapid succession of knocks on the door – three in a row, to be precise. In response, Euphemia threw herself off the bed and rolled underneath it, no longer visible to anyone who didn't stoop down to waist level.

Moments later, a tall, young woman with flowing purple hair stepped into the room as the door swung open.

Lelouch raised an eyebrow, muttering, "Speak of the devil…"

She frowned, somewhat confused. "What…?"

He waved it away. "Well? Why are you here, Cornelia?"

Cornelia replied, "I came to…"

She paused, looking away, then continued, "It's been three days since it happened. They say that you haven't touched your food at all. Nunnally … wouldn't have wanted this."

Lelouch snarled, slamming a fist down on his bed-side table. "Nunnally? Don't you dare speak to me of Nunnally. She wouldn't have wanted to _die_ either."

Cornelia was taken aback by the ferocity of Lelouch's remark.

"I understand what you're going through, Lelouch, but-"

Lelouch interrupted, "How could you possibly understand this hollow, empty feeling? It feels like … I've lost everything, yet I don't feel sad … there's no tears. I'm just … empty, incomplete. Could you imagine … if Euphemia was taken from you?"

Cornelia inhaled sharply. "No, I can't. But I was fond of Nunnally, you know. She was sweet, a breath of fresh air. A little bit like Euphy, you know. Nothing like the rest of our _family_. And Marianne was … my hero. She still is."

Lelouch shrugged. "That's right, you always brought Euphemia to visit Aries Villa and play with Nunnally … but you could never stand me."

Sadness swept over Cornelia's expression, and she sighed heavily. "The first time I met you, your eyes reminded me of Schneizel. It scared me … and I wanted to shelter Euphemia from that. Imagine how I felt when she said she wanted to marry you. But I never thought ill of you. How could I? You were Marianne's son."

Cornelia sighed once more. "But that's not why I came. I wanted … to apologize."

"Apologize?" questioned Lelouch.

She nodded. "That day, I was captain of the guard. Marianne … ordered all guards out. I argued with her, said it was too dangerous, but she demanded utmost privacy for her meeting."

Lelouch processed the information swiftly, coming to the same conclusions Cornelia had.

"Mother was betrayed by someone she trusted – someone powerful enough to escape retribution."

Cornelia bit her lip. "I failed that day, I let Marianne die. I should have convinced her of the danger, should have refused to let her out of sight. But I _will_ find their identity and bring them to justice, no matter who they are or how long it takes. I promise."

Lelouch began laughing wildly, a crazed look on his face. Cornelia gently patted his shoulder out of concern.

"Lelouch…?"

He looked up at her. "I suppose I should thank you … you've filled the void, the emptiness is gone. Now I have a purpose."

"A purpose?" questioned Cornelia.

"You plan to find the culprits … then bring them to justice? Well, I simply have to find them first. And then I'll hurt them over and over, drag them through an endless cycle of agony and torment until their minds break."

Cornelia shuddered. "Lelouch… you're deranged. I promise you I'll find these people and give you the peace of mind you deserve."

Lelouch smiled pleasantly. "I've decided my path. Nothing can stop me, sister, not even you."

Cornelia turned away, hiding her face.

"Don't die, Lelouch. You'll make Euphemia cry."

And then she left, trailed by her fading footsteps.

* * *

Once again, the doors creaked open as a young figure strode in between them.

"He's back again… this time he's going to get killed!"

"Is he going to make more demands? Crazy, I tell you."

Lelouch ignored the explosion of gossip, weaving his way through the sea of nobles and kneeling at the foot of the grandiose throne at the end of the room.

"Back again, boy?"

He clenched his fists in response to that voice, keeping his head bowed.

"Look up, boy."

Lelouch slowly raised his head to see the towering figure above him.

Charles chortled loudly. "Oh ho, you've changed. There's a fire in your eyes."

He had passed the point of no return. Pride was inconsequential, he had thrown it away already. He needed power, the power to strike down those who had attacked him. Nothing else mattered. Even if he had to crawl at the Emperor's feet and beg for mercy. No price was too great.

"Father … I plead leniency. I implore you to reverse the decision you made three days ago."

Silence weighed down on all the occupants of the room.

Charles scratched his chin.

"Very well, boy. But it's not me you need to prove yourself to, but the world. All the men standing here in this room think you weak, unfit for the court. Can you prove them wrong, I wonder."

Lelouch's eyes blazed furiously and he stood up abruptly.

"Anyone who thinks me weak and unfit, step forward and tell me that to my face."

As he turned in a full circle, every noble he made eye contact with averted their gaze. In the end, they were nothing more than spineless cowards, filthy leeches sustained by a corrupt empire sucking the lifeblood from its people.

Once more, the Emperor's laughter boomed out, filling the room.

"Very well, boy. You'll be enrolling in the Academy. Graduate at the top of your class, and I'll reinstate you as a prince of Britannia. Should you fail, however, the consequences … shall be dire."

Lelouch dropped into a kneeling position.

"You have my gratitude, Father. I shall not disappoint you."

And then he swooped out of the room.


	2. Broken Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass.

* * *

Panicked, frightened cries jolted him awake.

For a brief second, he had thought they were unpleasant remnants of his nightmare, but that illusion was swiftly dispelled as he was smothered in the fear and terror that dominated the air around him.

He glanced around, quietly appraising the situation.

Everybody in the cabin sat paralyzed in fear … unmoving, trembling, nobody dared to move. All eyes were drawn to the young, attractive flight attendant who stood in the middle of the aisle – but not because of her looks. Directly behind her was a tall, well-built man with a ski-mask obscuring his features, and in his right hand was a small, metallic pistol held to her head.

The man broke the silence.

"Nobody move, or we'll shoot you!"

Quiet whimpers could be heard, none loud enough to disrupt the heavy silence. Beside him, an elderly man clasped his hands together and closed his eyes, beginning to pray.

Four other men stood behind the masked man, presumably his partners in crime. One of them – perhaps the leader – walked over to the door and banged on it loudly, shouting, "Open up! We've got this entire plane hostage."

Lelouch swore under his breath. Only weeks ago he had been the victim of one terrorist group, and now he had landed into the lap of another?

Seconds passed, and yet there was no response from beyond the door.

Another man, this one wearing a red bandana around his face, slammed the butt of his assault rifle (which looked to be an AK-47) into the door in frustration.

"Fuck 'em! Let's just blow the door open with a 'nade!"

The leader turned around sharply and admonished Red Bandana, "Dumbass! We'll all die if you do that!"

He rolled his eyes, pausing to think for a moment, this time addressing Ski Mask, "Shoot the girl."

Ski Mask reluctantly protested, "Yo, you said I could play with her later. If she's dead there's no point, man."

The leader brought up his own rifle – this one of Britannian make – and yelled, "Are you fucking serious? Shoot her or I'll shoot you!"

The flight attendant in question began to plead for her life, "No, please! I'll do anything, please don't kill me! Please!"

Ski Mask shrugged. "Sorry, sweetie. I wanted to save you for later, but boss's orders, y'know?"

And then he pulled the trigger.

The loud bang echoed through the small cabin, as if someone had let off a firecracker or simultaneously popped a thousand balloons next to his ear. A body slumped to the floor, unnaturally limp and lifeless, resembling a mannequin or a life-size doll more than a human being. Around him, he could see disbelief etched on the faces of some, dread and even resignation on others.

Anger welled up within him like a geyser, sporadic and intense enough to quell any fear he might have otherwise felt.

The door inched open a crack and someone's face could be visible through it, before a knife found purchase in the narrow gap, sheathing itself in the flesh beyond it.

As yet another body hit the floor and the door swung fully open, the leader once again growled in frustration.

"You fucking dumbass! We need him to pilot the plane!"

Red Bandana shrugged, replying, "There's always two, right? That means he's just a spare."

The leader heaved a sigh. "Whatever. Just secure the pilot, I'll make the call."

They walked into the cockpit, leaving behind Ski Mask and two others to stand guard over the passengers.

Once again, the cabin was quiet … it was a welcome lull in the storm.

A minute passed. Then five. Then ten.

A baby began to cry, before its mother quickly hushed it silent.

Ski Mask took a step forward and pulled out a switchblade, and the tension in the air spiked once again.

In the left-most front row, a young brunette sat by the window. He reached over and ran the edge of his blade down the side of her face, gently caressing her cheek. The blade finally stopped to rest under her chin, pressing against her neck.

"You're cute … you'll do" he crowed with delight.

The girl shook her head from side to side, inching back until her body was pressed into the seat. As she trembled, the blade cut into her skin shallowly, causing thin droplets of blood to trickle down like rain.

An impossible sense of déjà vu struck Lelouch.

Nunnally had always been impossibly energetic, an exploding ball of enthusiasm that bounced where it pleased. She would often climb fences and explore anywhere that interested her, consequences be damned. Naturally, as her older brother, this meant that Lelouch had to follow her and keep her out of trouble, despite his weak constitution. In fact, the one time he hadn't, he had gotten into even more trouble than Nunnally had. Marianne had been … severely displeased.

One time, Nunnally had climbed into a garden where the ne Britannia's had been hosting a party. Lady ne Britannia had been utterly furious – and this was only further exacerbated by her extreme dislike of commoners. By the time Lelouch had finally made it to the top of the wall, she had already reduced Nunnally to tears with her cruel barbs and insults. The cold eyes of the twenty-odd guests, garbed in their fancy suits and over-priced dresses, had quietly watched the display, humiliating Nunnally with their condemning gazes and disapproving frowns.

She was perhaps the first person who he had ever truly _hated_. Never mind that Marianne had "accidentally" crash-landed a Knightmare through the ne Britannia villa in response, nor that the newly reconstructed ne Britannia estate had once again been ruined by a "faulty" water main. He would always remember that incident, because it had marked the end of Nunnally's marauding adventures. From that day on, Nunnally had always been slightly more subdued, quieter and restrained. More importantly, Nunnally had treated others _differently_ – she looked at people with a knowing gaze, as if she could see what they were thinking.

That day had changed her.

Now, the same thing was happening right in front of his eyes.

As the masked man terrorized the brunette, Lelouch could see the averted gazes and relieved expressions throughout the cabin. He knew what they were thinking – "thank god it's not me" and "poor girl". Yet none of them dared to intervene, content to be bystanders and spectators. It disgusted him. They were all filth, little better than the man in question. All of them clung to their own precious lives, willing to throw each other under the bus if it meant they could save themselves. A shrivel of token sympathy allowed them to preserve their claim to morality.

It was ironic. He had hated the nobility and their cruelty, had despised them as they watched him plead for the life of his sister and demand retribution for his mother. None of them had felt any pity, let alone compassion. None stepped forward to offer words of sympathy or offers of aid. Instead, they were more like sharks circling injured prey floundering in deep water. He hated them so much. Yet these commoners were no different.

None of them deserved the salvation they desired. Perhaps the girl he was about to save was just as guilty as the rest of them. Perhaps she didn't deserve rescue either. Yet he had to intervene. This show was simply too disgusting to continue watching, and even if no one else in the audience cared, he would step on stage and interrupt the production.

Lelouch rose theatrically and spoke out in a clear voice, "Stop! I, Lelouch vi Britannia, Eleventh Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire, command you to stop!"

Shocked murmurs and disbelieving expressions ensued. Every Britannian citizen knew that members of the Imperial Family and any noble worth his salt always travelled on the Royal Britannian Airways – a deluxe, luxury airliner where every seat was first class and service was second to none, matched only by the exorbitant price tag. So why was a Britannian prince travelling on a run-of-the-mill budget carrier airline?

Even Ski Mask had difficulty processing the statement, his hand dropping to his side with the girl forgotten.

"Wha-…?" he questioned, uncertain.

His train of thought was once again interrupted as the door behind him opened and Red Bandana stepped out into the cabin.

"We've got trouble, man. They aren't listening. The boss says to bring one of 'em in and shoot 'em, let them know that we mean business."

He paused briefly, bringing one hand up to adjust his bandana, then continued, "What's going on?"

Ski Mask waved his hand, gesturing wildly. "He says he's a prince!"

The other two nodded in agreement, and Red Bandana pointed at him, telling them to bring him inside the cockpit.

Lelouch swallowed nervously. He hadn't intended to stand and speak out against the terrorists. His traitorous legs had moved before he could think, and the condemning words had slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. Yet he couldn't find it in himself to regret his actions. He would not die here. He _couldn't_ die here. No matter what would happen, he still had things to do.

As he followed them into the cockpit, with a gun held to his back, he observed the leader yelling angrily into a microphone in front of him.

The pilot sitting in the chair next to him was barely conscious, the handle of a knife sticking out of his left leg.

The leader turned his head, noticing them the moment they entered the cockpit. He smirked, an abrupt departure from his rage-filled expression, and growled into the microphone, "Time's up. We're going to shoot one now."

Red Bandana held up his hand. "Wait, boss. This one here says he's a prince."

Lelouch cleared his throat and clarified, "That's correct. I am Lelouch vi Britannia, Eleventh Prince."

The leader stared for a moment, unmoving, before tilting his head back and letting out a deranged, insane laugh, more like a hyena than a human.

He turned back to the microphone and continued, "Did you hear that? This ain't any old hostage – this is a prince. You change your minds yet? Twenty lives for three hundred, plus a prince? That sounds like a pretty damn good trade to me."

"We do not negotiate with terrorists."

The reply was cold and unfeeling, more like an automatic recording than a human response.

The leader screeched in rage, and for a moment, Lelouch thought he was listening to the dying throes of a diseased monkey. It was both sickening and terrifying.

Lelouch stepped forward to intervene, addressing the group, "Let me try to persuade them."

They gave each other silent glances, before nodding and making enough space to let him pass in the narrow room.

"I am Lelouch vi Britannia, Eleventh Prince. I demand to-"

He was abruptly interrupted by the voice – that same cold, unfeeling voice.

"We do not negotiate with terrorists."

Lelouch's fists clenched and he took a deep breath. This would require subtle tact and a sly tongue. Anger would only serve hinder him.

He continued, "On this plane with me there are several hundred Britannians, all loyal subjects to the empire. Mothers, students, and even children. None of us wish to die. Would it be so unreasonable to hear out the demands of these terrorists? Are our lives really so cheap and easy to discard? I would be willing to do everything in my power to mediate negotiations."

Seconds passed, and the voice did not respond. Lelouch did not consider himself to be a particularly optimistic person, but he could not help the small bit of hope growing from within him.

After another minute, a different voice began to speak. In contrast to the machine-like female from before, this time it was an older man.

"I am General Avery. The terrorist filth demand the release of prisoners, scum that soldiers bled and died to capture. Because they are locked away, the average Britannian can sleep securely at night, without fear of being kidnapped, raped or murdered. Every day that passes, we wring out the location of a new rat-hole. And you want me to release them all? I'm afraid, your highness, that we cannot comply with their demands, not even for you."

Cold, white rage flushed through his body. Even though he was still young, he had spent his life not in an ivory tower, but in a den of serpents. It was a family legacy, after all. His father had stabbed and betrayed his way to the throne. In the court, every word spoken had a second meaning, every word unspoken had yet another meaning. The most important things were always left unsaid, and he had learned, by necessity, to read between the lines.

At face value, this general appeared to be a hardline patriot, someone who was willing to make sacrifices to keep his nation safe from all threats, within and without. Yet his true motives were blatantly obvious to someone like Lelouch. Simply put, General Avery didn't give two shits about him or the other passengers. With the death of his mother and his sister, the vi Britannia branch had lost too much favor and influence. Instead, Avery was more concerned about maintaining his status in the military, no doubt to a cushy retirement with a generous pension in a few years. The public outrage over the deaths of a few hundred Britannians in a tragic incident would be easily avoided by putting a spin on the story – perhaps a suicide bomber on the plane, or a faulty engine, or human error on the part of the pilot. Anything was possible. The media was solidly in the hands of the Britannian government, after all.

The leader began to laugh once again. Before, Lelouch had thought he had sounded like a demented hyena or a diseased monkey. This time, however, Lelouch truly began to question his sanity. He could see a small amount of white, bubbly froth dribbling from the corner of his mouth. The man's eyes were also impossibly bloodshot, more red than white.

He then leaned over the pilot, grabbing one shoulder and shaking it, before demanding, "You're going to turn us around and put us into the ICC Tower."

At this point, Lelouch was somewhat impressed that the pilot was still conscious – he looked about to pass out any moment, with a steadily increasing pool of blood dripping from the wound on his leg.

The pilot blinked disbelievingly, replying, "That's crazy … we'll all die."

The leader shrugged unnaturally, as if he were a puppet. "Didn't you hear them? They don't care! This is the only thing that will get their attention!"

Lelouch closed his eyes, resigned. The loud argument faded into the background.

Negotiations failed.

He had failed.

He was going to die here.

He had never particularly cared for religion – a famous EU philosopher had once likened religion to a drug, and Lelouch wholeheartedly agreed. But in the immediacy of his death, he couldn't help but take comfort in the idea of an afterlife. Would he able to see Nunnally's innocent, childish smile or be embraced in his mother's arms again?

Was there a divine power, a supreme being of some sort? The Britannian Empire had no state religion, but he knew that the Abrahamic religions still held sway in the EU and the Middle Eastern Federation.

In truth, he had always been somewhat interested by polytheistic religions. In his opinion, their tales were infinitely more diverse and flavorful than that of the monotheistic religions, with their near-obsessive adherence to a holy scripture.

Or perhaps he would wake up in a parallel universe?

He snorted. _That_ was even more ridiculous than religion.

His musings were interrupted as everything around him shook and trembled. Lelouch had never experienced an earthquake in person, but he imagined that this must come close. Everything was falling, he was falling, the floor breaking and cracking and shaking, and nothing made sense. It was also incredibly loud, and from beyond the door he could see parts of the cabin on fire.

He couldn't find anything to hold onto, and fell to the floor, or perhaps the wall or the roof. By now they all looked the same to him, at any rate.

In the chaos, a realization struck him.

They had been shot down.

Britannia, unwilling to negotiate, had pursued the simplest path to removing the problem.

And yet he couldn't bring himself to care.

Either way, he was going to die.

Perhaps this way, he would live a few less minutes.

But did it really matter?

And then a large chunk of metal or plastic struck his head, and he lost consciousness.


	3. Stray Cat

Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass.

* * *

A white ceiling slowly came into focus, and the smell of disinfectant lingered in the air.

Lelouch took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the blanket covering his body. He then raised a hand to his right eye, where his fingers met smooth cloth.

Then a voice called out to him.

"Hey, you're awake! They said you'd be asleep for another few days."

He sat up slowly, looking in the direction of the voice. His limbs seemed to work fine, although every part of his body ached, as if someone had beaten him repeatedly.

Across from him sat a teenager with his hands crossed behind his head, lounging in a relaxed manner.

Lelouch asked, "Who are you? Where am I?"

The teenager raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Hey, isn't it rude to ask for someone's name without introducing yourself? Well, not that it matters, since I already know who you are. I'm Cory Santos."

He suppressed the annoyance that emerged in response to the teenager's easygoing, lackadaisical manner.

"Santos…?" he stated, with a questioning tone.

Cory shrugged. "My dad's family came from Area Three."

Lelouch took his hand off the bandage covering his eye, frowning.

Cory leaned back against his pillow, continuing, "Besides, you're damn lucky, you know? I thought you were a goner, with a chunk of plastic sticking out of your eye. I wasn't even sure if it was worth the effort dragging you out."

Lelouch was quiet for a moment, considering the situation.

"So my eye…"

Cory waved his hand back and forth, rather dismissively.

"Come on, bro, it's not that bad." He gestured towards the end of his bed. "I'd rather lose an eye than a leg, anyway – you need two legs to walk, but you only need one eye to see."

He laughed enthusiastically, with more humor than the situation deserved. "Besides, at least you're still alive. You should have seen the other passengers."

Lelouch inhaled sharply.

"The others…"

Cory shrugged once again. "Only seventeen alive, they said. Then again, I guess there's also a silver lining to that. If a lot more survived, I might not have gotten treatment so quickly. Triage and all that, you know."

"You're quite the optimist, aren't you?" commented Lelouch, with a raised eyebrow – the one not covered by bandages.

And then the door opened, with a nurse clad in a pristine, white uniform rushing into the room.

"Your Highness! You're awake! There's s-"

"How long have I been asleep?" Lelouch interrupted her abruptly.

Train of thought derailed, she thought about the question for a few moments.

"Let's see… it's been about four days since the incident, I think."

He clenched his teeth in frustration.

Four days wasted.

His prince-hood was hanging by a thread, his position in the royal court untenable at best. He had no allies. The li Britannia's were too busy calling in favors to keep Cornelia out of hot water and stem nasty rumors being spread by the damned ne Britannia's. No other branch had ties close enough to the vi Britannia's to bail him. The Ashford Foundation had already declared bankruptcy, with the Ashfords cutting losses and fleeing overseas. He had only empty promises to offer, and no one would risk their necks for that.

Realistically speaking, this path through the military was his last and only chance to regain enough prestige and power to hunt down those who had murdered his kin. Without the ability to exert influence in the royal court, his plans would be delayed by decades. His enemies might even die of old age before he could find them.

He couldn't afford to rest in a hospital bed like an invalid, listening to an annoyingly chirpy teenager as his enemies buried the evidence and burned the paper trail.

"I need transportation," he ordered the woman standing in front of him.

"Your Highness! You need to res-," she protested.

"Immediately," he snarled, cutting her off once again.

"Y-yes, y-Your Highness! I'll call for a car!" she stammered, exiting the room.

He heaved a sigh and leaned against the pillows, pinching the bridge of his nose.

No rest for the weary, it would seem.

* * *

The door opened, causing beams of sunlight to illuminate the dark interior of the car. A tall silhouette stood before him, backlit by the lazy tendrils of the sun. As his eye adjusted to the light, her features became clearer.

Long, silvery hair with a hint of teal. A tan complexion. Feline, yellow eyes.

As he stepped out of the car, her gaze flitted to his face, resting briefly on the eyepatch covering one eye.

"Your Highness, I am Villetta Nu. I am to serve as your aide during your stay here at OCA-B," greeted the figure.

Her voice was husky and unrefined, lacking the carefully measured tone commonly found amongst nobility.

Lelouch stared at her, lost in thought.

This was an unexpected turn of events. Who was pulling the strings? Nobody with influence had been willing to step in and pull him out of the fire after the incident, but it was clear that _somebody_ though they could hedge their bets and curry favor with him in case he really did manage to rebuild his powerbase and re-establish himself in the royal court.

Or perhaps she was acting independently? As someone with distinct non-Britannian features, opportunities for advancement would be limited. Close ties to a member of the royal family would be an easy path to jump the ladder, so to speak. On the other hand, she could be an assassin, someone looking to finish the same job that took his mother and sister.

"Pleased to meet you, Villetta," replied Lelouch.

He offered a handshake with a smile plastered on his face. As she swiftly reached forward to shake his hand, he smirked. She was painfully easy to read. Her cat-like eyes shone with greed and fierce ambition. With minimal effort, she would be dancing in the palm of his hand.

Lelouch mulled over his thoughts for a moment longer, concluding that ultimately, it didn't matter who was backing this woman. If she hindered him, he would simply discard her. If she was useful, all the better. He wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

Villetta stepped back and continued, "Your Highness, I'll be escorting you to your quarters. This way, please."

She turned around and took a few steps across the sidewalk, stopping right in front of the guardhouse. It was a fairly picturesque, with red bricks and white pillars, looking slightly out of place at a military institute. Villetta murmured a few words and flashed a badge, before turning back to Lelouch.

"Your Highness, we are free to pass," said Villetta.

He responded with a nod, following her as she stepped past the guardhouse. As they made their way across a large field, her boots made a soft crunching noise as they flattened the fresh, supple grass.

In the corner of his eye, he could see several people in uniform. Their quiet whispers floated across the field, carried by the wind. None of them reached his ears, however, because Lelouch shut them out completely, already knowing what they would consist of. He kept his gaze forward, refusing to turn his head.

Soon, they reached a small building the size of a house, which Villetta paused in front of.

"Your Highness, we are here," she informed him rather redundantly.

He ignored the obvious statement, waiting as she stepped towards the door, swiping her access card.

The automatic, glass doors slid smoothly open with a hiss, and they stepped inside the building.

They were inside a small, empty entranceway, with a camera in the corner and a mahogany door in front of them. As the doors slid shut behind them, Villetta swiped her access card once again, then rapidly entered a combination on a small keypad next to the door.

A small light turned green for a brief second, with a soft but distinct clicking sound. Then Villetta opened the door.

Lelouch stopped, bewildered. His indifferent mask slipped, shock evident on his face. Fortunately, with Villetta facing forwards in front of him and no one else in the building, there had been nobody around to see his slip-up.

The cause for his surprise was what he had glimpsed beyond the door.

There was a combined kitchen and living room. The kitchen portion consisted of an island in a marble sea, surrounded by a myriad of steel cabinets, cooking appliances, and a large refrigerator. The living room side was also well-furnished, with a sofa, a massive wall-mounted display, and a piano of all things.

Villetta turned around as he stepped across the threshold.

"I hope it is to your satisfaction, Your Highness?" asked Villetta, with an uncertain tone.

Lelouch raised an eyebrow.

He really wasn't sure what to say.

This was a military academy, after all. He had expected spartan dormitories, bunk-beds and communal bathrooms.

Granted, this didn't hold a candle to the Imperial Villa at Aries, which sported a private swimming pool and tennis court. But in the context of a military academy, this may as well be the royal suite.

The Britannian branch of the Officer Candidate Academy could lay claim to a sizable majority of the upper echelons of the Britannian military as alumni. This was where the cream of the crop gathered. The exorbitant tuition and limited admission spots ensured that membership was limited to the privileged few. Those who lacked the connections or wealth to secure a spot had to make do elsewhere, such as the Imperial Colchester Institute or Pendragon Military College.

As such, it was hardly unexpected that the academy would provide better food and accommodations to meet the standard of living upper-class nobility typically enjoyed. After all, they weren't common soldiers, and they didn't expect to be treated as such.

However, this was clearly above and beyond the norm.

This was the red carpet treatment.

Lelouch pondered the situation briefly.

It was unusual for members of the royal family to go into the military. Most typically pursued a path in politics or civil service.

His mother was an exception to the rule. Commoner-born, with a French background, she had been a test pilot for the experimental 'Knightmare' war machines still in development. She had been incredibly talented, no doubt, but under ordinary circumstances she would have never ascended to a position of particular importance. The system would never allow it, after all. Despite all the Social Darwinist rhetoric which pervaded Britannia, a mere commoner could never advance to the upper ranks of the nobility. Social mobility and a culture of birthright were simply incompatible concepts.

However, she had caught the eye of Charles zi Britannia. He had aided her ascension to the Knights of the Round, first to the Knight of Six, then the Knight of Two. Together, they had carved a bloody path through the royal family, until Charles had emerged as the last man standing, allowing him to take the crown.

Although she had become an empress, she had never discarded the legacy of her humble background. Lelouch had never seen her wear jewelry, with the exception of earrings. She had always spurned elaborate dresses and high-heels, declaring them 'impractical' and instead stuck to pants and boots. Other ladies had always gossiped about her lack of elegance, but never to her face.

In contrast to the vi Britannia branch, most other members of the royal family enjoyed and expected an obscenely lavish and opulent lifestyle.

On reflection, this VIP treatment was not entirely unusual.

Off the top of his head, he couldn't think of any half-siblings of his who would be willing to accept _communal_ sleeping quarters or bathrooms.

At the same time, however, the Academy could hardly refuse to accept a member of the royal family, particularly under the orders of the Emperor himself.

By now he had reached the end of the living room and stood in front of two rooms, with both doors open. On the left was the bathroom which, he noted, had a ceiling shower and marble tiling. Naturally, the bedroom was on the right. A king-sized bed dominated the room, with the typical bedside tables, lamps, and the like.

A thought occurred to him, and he tilted his head at an angle, glancing back at Villetta.

"By the way, where are you sleeping?" asked Lelouch.

She flushed and averted her gaze.

"If you find me acceptable, Your Highness, it would be an honor to join you. I-I am prepared t-to take care of … your needs."

His already raised eyebrow threatened to pierce the ceiling.

Naturally, he wasn't ignorant of sexual reproduction and the changes a human body typically underwent. He had made sure to read up on the topic after walking in on a very disturbing scene between his mother and the Emperor. As far as he was aware, it was unusual, but not entirely unheard of, for boys to start puberty as early as nine. Fortunately, he had not yet been subjected to this form of torture.

"That won't be necessary," he stated flatly.

At face value, it was unusual for a woman of Villetta's age – he estimated somewhere in the late teens, perhaps eighteen or nineteen – to accept a sexual relationship with a boy who was almost ten. Most would be uncomfortable with the idea, he imagined. But he wasn't merely a boy. He was a member of the royal family, and that made him invaluable. As his mother had proved, even the lowest of royalty stood heads and shoulders above all but the most prestigious and influential of nobility. If nobility ruled commoners, then royalty ruled nobility. It was an undisputable fact in Britannia.

Approaching him now in the infancy of his development would place her in a prime position for emotional investment, with the potential prize of his firstborn. If she played her cards right, she would have an easy path to status and high society.

Embarrassment spread across her face as he spurned her advances, and she replied quickly, "Of course, Your Highness. I will arrange separate accommodations for myself."

He narrowed his eye, crinkling the adjacent eyepatch slightly. Although he was wary of this woman, he could not afford to discard any potential allies.

Lelouch raised a hand, stating, "You may stay here. I'm afraid we will only be sleeping though."

"Yes, Your Highness!" replied Villetta.

He suppressed a smirk at the pleased expression on her face. She was extremely easy to manipulate. He could throw a bone and she would be wiling do to anything. If he planned carefully and exerted enough effort, he could probably cultivate loyalty, devotion or even love to him. Simply hinting at the possibility of a child in the gradual future would leave Villetta drooling. Words of praise, trips to Pendragon, introductions to some of his half-siblings. He had so many weapons at his fingertips to manipulate her.

She interrupted his thoughts, asking, "Your Highness … would you prefer to go to the mess hall or should I have dinner prepared here?"

Lelouch waved his hand, dismissing the suggestion.

"Neither. There's still one more class today, I'll attend that."

"Yes, Your Highness. I will escort you there," replied Villetta, slightly taken aback. She had expected him to relax today and start attending class tomorrow, no doubt.

Villetta began to head out, leading the way to their next destination, before she made an 'ah' noise and stopped to turn around.

"By the way, Your Highness … I am afraid there were no uniforms in your size. The earliest I can have one prepared is Monday next week," stated Villetta regretfully.

He said nothing, and she turned back to continue leading the way.

Without anything to do, Lelouch's mind began to wonder, pondering his future.

Assuming he graduated from the Academy, his best option would be an assignment to Area Ten. The invasion was more or less over, and large-scale fighting had all but stopped. However, there were still minor skirmishes with the Chinese Federation, particularly over a few disputed islands.

A few token years of military service at a conflict zone would allow him to garner the backing of various military factions on his return to Pendragon, as long as he played up his veteran status properly.

He wouldn't even need to be injured – the presence of his eyepatch alone would denote his sacrifice and devotion to the empire, never mind that he had received that injury years prior.

Lelouch wouldn't stop there, naturally. A life of political maneuvering and ballroom dancing would be too slow. He couldn't afford to wait for that long.

His next opportunity would be Area Eleven. Wherever they invaded – he suspected either Singapore or Philippines – he would be in a prime position to build up a regional power base, especially after serving for a few years in Area Ten. Once he had established himself as Viceroy of Area Eleven and stabilized the region, he would have an unassailable base of operations which would produce military power loyal to him and a flow of cash to fund his war chest, which would allow him to make his bid for the throne. From there on, the opportunities were endless.

For a moment, he was tempted to cackle loudly like a mastermind villain with plans for world domination.

In front of him, Villetta stopped suddenly and he realized that they had reached their destination.

She opened the door for him, and he stepped in.

All eyes turned to look at Lelouch.

There were about thirty-odd people, all in their late teens or early twenties and mostly male.

The only man standing at the front of the room addressed Lelouch.

"Your Highness! I was under the impression that you would be joining us tomorrow. Feel free to take a seat anywhere," stated the man.

"Your Highness, I will take my leave now and come pick you up once class ends," said Villetta, before walking out the door.

He walked down the length of the room, climbing the steps one by one.

The room was more in the style of a lecture hall than a classroom, with a pitched floor and curved rows of plush seats facing the front of the room. Unlike the typical lecture hall though, it was a fairly small room though, with only a few rows and a total capacity of about forty or so. Noting the generous legroom and ergonomic headrests built into the chairs, he couldn't help but think that the room was designed for comfort first and foremost. Nothing but the best for the elite of society, after all. Upper-class nobility would accept no less.

As he took a seat, the instructor resumed.

"Of all Areas, Area Eight was the fastest to fall. One could say that the European Union conceded control of Area Eight without a fight. Can anyone tell me why?" he asked.

He looked around the room, frowning in disappointment at the complete lack of raised hands.

"How about you, Fareham?" he called out someone sitting in the back row.

Fareham flushed and stood, desperately trying to come up with an answer.

"Naval power, sir. Britannia rules the waves, and the European Union were unable to maintain their hold on Area Eight because they could not match our ships in combat."

The instructor frowned, shaking his head.

"I see none of you bothered to do the reading…" he commented disapprovingly. "How about you, Your Highness? Care to guess?"

Lelouch cursed under his breath. The man had to put him on the spot, and now he was in a lose-lose situation. If he answered correctly, his classmates would resent him for embarrassing them and showing off. If he answered incorrectly, people would think of him as an idiot, someone who had spent too much time in an ivory tower.

In the end, he decided to go with a half-answer; a second-choice reply that wasn't entirely wrong, but not the best answer.

Lelouch stood and stated, "The discovery of Sakuradite's super-conducting properties lowered the importance of Area Eight's oil and gas reserves, sir. The European Union could no longer justify the resources spent … contesting the island."

The man clapped, applauding Lelouch's answer.

"Excellent answer, Your Highness. Though not the primary factor per se, it was definitely a major influence on the decision. In fact-"

The instructor began to drone on, oblivious to Lelouch's irritation and the annoyed glares of his peers.

He had purposely given the man a half-answer, but the damned man had to ingratiate with him, going as far as to _applaud_ his answer. It was ridiculous. Couldn't the man take a hint? Now, any inroads with his peers would be limited. It was an obstacle he didn't need.

Ignoring the man for the remainder of the lesson, the time passed by fairly quickly.

Fareham and two others quickly rushed out the door, followed by the lazy crowd slowly meandering down the aisle. Lelouch let himself get carried along the current, eventually reaching Villetta, who stood outside.

She was impressively dutiful, he had to admit. Perhaps he could eventually mold her into a Knight of Honor, if her piloting skills proved up to par.

She handed him a slip of paper, then leaned forward.

"Somebody came up and asked me to pass this on to you," she whispered into his ear.

He frowned and opened it up.

MEET AT BROWN LIBRARY COURTYARD

Five words scrawled in ink, with nothing on the back.

Who was it from? Obviously somebody on the campus, but that didn't narrow the suspects down very much.

The real question was whether or not he should accept the invitation. It was risky, of course. Without knowledge of who he would be meeting, he had no way to predict the outcome. On the other hand, he couldn't pass up this opportunity. It wasn't as if he was going along anyway, Villetta would accompany him, and she carried a pistol.

"We're heading there," he informed Villetta.

She frowned, chewing her lower lip.

"Your Highness! It could be dangerous…" she protested.

About ten minutes later, they turned the corner and entered the courtyard behind Brown Library.

It was empty.

He looked up and saw that the library was closed off, with warning signs plastered on the entrance.

Lelouch glanced at Villetta, and she commented, "It appears that Brown Library is under renovation."

He sighed. Sometimes she loved to state the obvious. It was a bad habit of hers that he planned to correct.

He was willing to take the risk of meeting someone unknown, but he hadn't expected the place to be deserted. Of course, it was possible that this person wanted to keep their meeting secret, away from prying eyes. But he wasn't comfortable with the lack of witnesses. Anything could happen.

"Villetta, we're leaving," he told her.

Suddenly, she crumpled to the ground, and he whirled around.

Lelouch caught a glimpse of a blurry figure behind him, before he joined Villetta on the floor.

* * *

He had miscalculated.

He had expected some friction with his peers after that display in class, but not to this level.

They were in a dark, musky room with a high ceiling. His arms were bound behind his back with what felt like duct tape. He sat on the floor with his back to a bare concrete wall behind him.

He also had a pounding, throbbing headache.

In front of him, Villetta lay on the ground tied up like him, in the center of the room.

Behind her, a row of stacked crates were piled up against the opposite wall. To their right he could make out a large garage door, which was unfortunately closed, hence the dim visibility of the room.

"Well, well, well. Looks like sleeping beauty's finally awake."

Standing between Villetta and him was a trio, though it was too dark for him to make out their features.

"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked.

The one closest to him squatted down, patting his cheek.

"Don't you recognize me? I'm John Fareham. My father is Duke Fareham of Fareham Industries, which won the Glasgow production bid," he whispered.

His voice grew louder as he continued.

"Who the hell do you think you are, swaggering into the Academy half-way through the term looking like a pirate with a god-damned maid on hand? You're not even a real prince, you're just a little kid. You think people don't know that your mother is a filthy _commoner_? I'm going to teach you some respect and show you who's in charge around here."

Lelouch swallowed.

The situation had escalated.

He had just made it out of one hospital, he really didn't want to return.

Fareham then stood up and turned around, taking a few steps forward to straddle Villetta's stomach. Under his weight, Villetta began to stir, groaning.

"She's not even pure Britannian, is she? I'm going to have some fun with your pretty maid and watch while my two friends keep you company," leered Fareham.

His eye narrowed, rage bubbling to the surface. After a series of failed taunts and provocation, Fareham had unknowingly pushed the wrong button and struck a nerve in Lelouch.

Lelouch hated bystanders with a passion. When he had been hanging on the top of the garden wall, he had seen women garbed in opulence and luxury excitedly gossiping over his sister's "disgraceful commoner behavior" as she accidentally gate-crashed their tea party. When he had prostrated beneath his father in the royal court, he had felt the amused and entertained eyes of nobility watching the spectacle.

Only a week ago, ten kilometers in the air, he had seen hundreds silently watching as five men held an entire plane hostage.

It was ridiculous.

How could five men hold nearly a hundred times their number hostage? They didn't even have enough bullets to kill everyone.

But they had.

Everyone had watched, silent and fearful, thankful when 'somebody else' became a victim.

He hated it.

And he had intervened.

He had defied men with assault rifles, stared them in the face while hundreds others quivered behind their seats.

By comparison, three teenagers with clubs were a joke.

He glanced around, appraising his surroundings and evaluating his options while ignoring the approaching pair of goons.

There were three possible options.

Fight, call for help, escape, or play dead.

The first option was an interesting choice, because it was highly risky but had the greatest return. His arms were bound behind his back, which would be a significant restraint in combat. He had the advantage of surprise, however. They would not expect him to lash out violently. If he fought dirty, attacking the eyes, throat or groin, he would be able to disable one or two quickly, even with his arms bound. However, the last of the trio might end up overpowering him. If he lost, he would exacerbate the situation. They would punish him severely. Still, they had already indicated that they didn't intend to kill him.

He dismissed the second option as inferior to the first. Although fairly low-risk – they would likely just hit him a few times to keep him quiet – it also very little benefit. Assuming they had been unconscious for a few hours, it would be night time now. They would have had enough time to bring him and Villetta far enough, to a place where no one could hear them. Judging from the crates against the far wall, it was probably a rarely used warehouse or storage building.

The third option was the least likely to succeed. He had no way to open the garage door, and his captors were far more physically able than him, with longer legs, greater lung capacity, and superior endurance. The age gap was unsurpassable, he would not be able to outrun them. He would also have to abandon Villetta, who would probably resent him.

The last choice would be unpleasant, but he considered it a potential option for a brief moment. He was willing to tolerate some pain and injury in the short-run. However, there were two potential concerns. Firstly, he was fairly sure they didn't intend to kill him, but he wasn't aware of how far they were willing to go. Permanent injuries would be unacceptable. He had already lost one eye, he didn't need to become a cripple. Worst of all would be brain damage. They had already smashed him over the head to knock him out – he would have to see a doctor for that later to determine the extent of the injury. If they struck his head again, well, there was a fair risk of complications. Villetta would also be somewhat traumatized by the experience, judging from the heavy panting he could hear from Fareham. Damned hormonal teenagers. Then again, he could probably spin the situation and appeal to Villetta through their common experience of being kidnapped and victimized. A few sympathetic words, a hug and a few tears, and he could secure her loyalty.

In other words, there were only two options – to fight or to endure the experience. Screaming for help or running away was out.

Fighting was high-risk, he would have to inflict crippling injuries and take out as many of them as possible to even the odds. He was too risk-averse to accept that. The likelihood of his success was not high enough for him to pursue that option.

He hated being a passive bystander. It wouldn't be fun being beaten up by these goonies watching Fareham violate Villetta.

But his risk analysis told him that fighting was highly likely to fail, and failure would bring additional repercussion on both of them. The experience would be unpleasant, but not permanent, he told himself.

And then a meaty hand swung out and smashed into his cheek, flinging him into the wall, then sliding to the ground.

He cursed loudly.

It hurt, damnit.

Where before his head had been pounding, now it roared with pain that made him want to scrunch up into a ball and hold his head until the pain went away. That was impossible of course, as his hands were still tied up. But his vision was blurry and his thoughts were scrambled.

He seized upon one train of thought in his dazed state. Head injury. It was highly likely that he would incur brain damage if this repeated multiple times. This was unacceptable.

They had forced his hand.

Fighting was the only option left.

Before he could climb to his feet, a heavy weight pinned him to the ground.

One of the goons had mounted his stomach. Due to their age and size difference, he felt like was being crushed, helpless to escape.

Lelouch cursed.

Then a fist came down and he rolled his neck to the right as far as possible, causing the fist to slam down into the floor beside his head. Seizing the opportunity, Lelouch quickly turned his head and sunk his teeth into the thick wrist, tearing through flesh and tasting blood.

The teen yelled and reared back, clutching his hand.

Lelouch staggered backwards as he got to his feet, bumping into the wall. Behind him, something small dug into his lower back. It was too high for him to feel out with his bound hands, and he turned around.

His left eye widened and a smirk spread his face.

It was a fire alarm.

Change of plans. Option two was now viable. A human call didn't travel particularly far, but a fire alarm was guaranteed to bring personnel running.

He glanced back briefly, calculating.

The duo were about five meters away from him, which gave him about three seconds. Plenty of time to break the glass and sound the alarm.

He whirled around, smashing through the protective glass cover with his elbow. Lelouch quickly bent down and awkwardly stretched his bruised face towards the box, gripping the handle with his teeth and pulling it down.

To his ears, trumpets of victory rang proud, as if to celebrate his triumph.

Behind him, a look of horror spread over Fareham's face, before it quickly shifted to anger.

"You, you! You little …" he roared, standing up over Villetta and glaring at Lelouch.

Lelouch's internal celebration quickly grinded to a halt in the face of a charging bull.

Why did people have to be such sore losers?

Before Lelouch could respond, Fareham tackled him to the ground, mounting his chest.

And then hands wrapped around his throat, and he began to choke.

He had miscalculated … once again.

Lelouch had assumed Fareham would subscribe to rational behavior. Once discovery was imminent, he should have fled, escaping to avoid being caught doing something very nasty and reputation-ruining. But instead, he had been overwhelmed by emotions and attacked Lelouch.

Game over.

His plans had been carefully thought out.

He has analyzed every option and pursued the best possible choice each time.

He closed his eye in resignation. He lay supine on the floor with arms bound behind his back and ninety kilograms of Homo Sapiens pinning him down. Two hands squeezed around his small neck, crushing his windpipe and restricting the precious flow of air he would need to continue living. Although his veins were on fire and his lungs thirsted for air, he couldn't move.

Suddenly, the grip on his throat slackened and Fareham fell onto Lelouch.

A deafening bang echoed through the room, accompanied by a flash of light and the smell of gunpowder.

Free of Fareham's weight, Villetta had pulled in her legs and slipped her bound hands up and over her feet, allowing her to pull the pistol out of her thigh holster to shoot him.

Seeing Fareham unconscious or possibly dead and afraid of the ringing alarm, the other two had bolted for it, disappearing into the night. He hadn't even caught their names yet…

Groaning, he tried and failed to push Fareham's body off him. It was too damn heavy. A moment later it rolled to the side and Villetta stood above him.

"Your Highness … are you alright?"

He considered the situation.

Fareham was probably dead. The bullet had struck the back of his head. Considering Villetta's hands were still bound, Lelouch was fairly impressed, even if Fareham had been a still target at a fairly short distance.

But the implications of this were … staggeringly hopeless, perhaps irredeemably so. Duke Fareham would not take lightly to the death of his son. No, that was an understatement. Duke Fareham would be on a warpath, and Lelouch was screwed.

His bid for the throne was completely and utterly sunk.

He laughed hollowly, causing Villetta to give him a concerned look. Could he shift the blame on Villetta? No, that would be futile. Fareham wouldn't be satisfied with a sacrifice of some no-name without a title. His firstborn had been killed, and honor demanded something of equivalent value.

Besides, Villetta _had_ saved him, after all. He might have died if not for her intervention. No, he wouldn't throw her to the wolves. That would be pointless.

"Your Highness?" she asked once again.

He leaned back against the wall, closing his eye.

"There's no need for that, Villetta. I won't be anyone's highness much longer," he murmured.

All paths to the royal court were closed, the barriers to entry were too numerous. At best, he would be exiled. At worst, executed. Pendragon was no longer an option. If he wanted to hunt down his enemies, he would have to find alternative avenues. Organized crime was his best bet. But where?

In any case, there was no point throwing Villetta away.

He opened his eye and met her gaze.

"Hand me the gun," he ordered her.

She stared at him bewildered, with eyepatch in one hand and pistol in the other.

"W-what? Your High-" questioned.

"I said, hand me the gun," repeated Lelouch.

She passed both items over to him, and he affixed the eyepatch once again. It had been knocked off in the struggle, probably at the very beginning when one of the goons had struck his cheek.

"I shot Fareham. Am I understood?" stated Lelouch.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she stared at him.

As the one who pulled the trigger and killed the son of a duke, her career was over. The reason didn't matter. She would be thrown out of the military and blacklisted in nearly every industry. Her best bet would be to go overseas and find work in an Area or immigrate to the European Union.

However, if he pulled the trigger, it wouldn't make much of a difference. He was already guaranteed a spot on the duke's shit list. His bid for the throne was over regardless. This way, however, he could make the best of a bad situation. Covering for Villetta would ensure her gratitude for him. He didn't have many allies, after all.

And perhaps there was the smallest feeling that he owed Villetta for saving him, though he would never admit that.

To his surprise, she began to tear up.

"Yes, Your Highness! I will remember this forever!" she sobbed out.

"I told you to stop calling me that…" he sighed.

The adrenaline had long since worn off, replaced by exhaustion, a pounding headache and aches everywhere. Lelouch decided to relax and give in to unconsciousness as uniformed men entered the room and the fire alarm shut off.

* * *

He stood in the shower, letting the warm water trickle down. There were bruises everywhere, and he sighed.

Painkiller, the true miracle of modern medicine.

Lelouch reached up and turned the lever, increasing the temperature.

After the events of the Thursday night, his father had sent a 'court summons', demanding him to explain his actions at Pendragon.

Naturally, he had ignored it.

If he had gone, he would be a lamb to the slaughter. No excuse or explanation would mitigate Duke Fareham's rage. Execution was a very real possibility. At best, he would be exiled.

The tabloids has been overjoyed at his lack of presence, happily churning out the most absurd tales about him.

He didn't particularly care, of course. He was biding his time, waiting until they tired of waiting.

Better that they judged him in absentia than in a kangaroo court.

By Monday, the Emperor had figured out how to get rid of him in a useful manner, rather than simply discarding him. Charles had decided to use him as a bargaining tool in light of the upcoming Annual Summit in Japan. The presence of a political hostage would cool Japanese fears regarding imperial aspirations of the encroaching Britannian Empire (Area Ten had not been far off, after all) and allow Britannia to negotiate a trade treaty over sakuradite export. Due to the vast territories it controlled, Britannia was not so much concerned with losing out on sakuradite exported from Japan, but instead buying as much as possible to prevent the European Union and the Chinese Federation from getting their hands on it.

He stepped out of the shower, drying himself and donning his clothes and eyepatch. In the bedroom, Villetta lay curled up like a cat on top of the bedsheets.

This would be the last night he would spend in Britannia for a very long time. Tomorrow, he would take a plane to Japan, where he would stay with the Prime Minister's family.


	4. Lion's Den

Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass.

* * *

He stepped onto the concrete driveway hesitantly. This was foreign soil, and the foreignness permeated the air and impregnated the dirt.

Everything was different, unfamiliar, and alien.

In front of him was a tall man with graying hair and Asiatic features. He was solidly built, with a stern, fierce expression and a white, button-down shirt with a collar that flared around his neck like a mane. Beside him was a boy about Lelouch's age, with some resemblance to the man. He had ruffled, untidy brown hair and unfriendly, dark green eyes. Behind the two stood a group of people in various uniforms; a chef, a maid, a driver, and so on – no doubt people who worked for the Kururugi's in some fashion.

The man stepped towards him and bowed. Lelouch noticed that the man's gaze lingered on his eyepatch for a brief moment before sizing him up. The boy, on the other hand, was staring unabashed.

"Welcome to Japan, Your Highness. I am Genbu Kururugi. It is an honor to be your host for the duration of your stay," stated the man in a gruff tone.

Lelouch noted that the man's English was fluent, albeit accented, as he hurriedly bowed back. He didn't have any knowledge of local customs or etiquette, but returning the gesture seemed to be appropriate – the best he could do at short notice.

"No, the pleasure is mine, Mr. Kururugi. Please call me Lelouch. Thank you for consenting to my stay at such short notice. I look forward to being in your care," he replied.

"You're well-mannered!" remarked Genbu, chuckling. His fierce expression shifted into a predatory grin that unsettled Lelouch. "This is my son, Suzaku. Although his English is not that good yet, he knows enough to understand you. Please get along with him. Hopefully your politeness will rub off on him."

Suzaku looked away sullenly, causing his father to frown.

"Hora, Suzaku! Chanto aisatsu shinasai!" barked Genbu loudly.

"Hai, chichi-ue," replied Suzaku dutifully.

Suzaku then gave Lelouch the slightest of nods, stating, "Welcome to Japan. Pleased to meet you. I am Suzaku."

Abruptly, Genbu's phone began to ring.

Before dashing off, he told Suzaku, "Bring our guest into the house, make sure to serve tea!"

As the herd of people in various uniforms dispersed, Suzaku scowled and turned to Lelouch.

"Come."

Without waiting for a reply or any form of acknowledgement, Suzaku set off towards the Kururugi Shrine, and Lelouch followed him.

It was obvious to Lelouch that for whatever reason, Suzaku didn't like him. Perhaps Suzaku was xenophobic and rejected his foreignness. Or maybe Suzaku didn't like Britannia, and by extension, him. There were a thousand different possible reasons, each as likely as the last, and he would be sure to find out later.

As they entered the building, Lelouch observed its innards. The decorations on the walls were as foreign to him as the cave paintings of his ancestors. Occasionally, they passed displays of swords that looked menacing despite their ceremonial nature.

Soon, they stopped in front of a room, and Suzaku slid open a door that looked like it was made of paper. He then pointed at a low table that didn't reach his knees, with a few cushions scattered around the woven, straw floor.

"Sit."

"… Where?" asked Lelouch, as he stared at the room.

The problem was simple. There were no chairs. Did they not use chairs in Japan? How can one sit if there is no furniture to sit on? Was he supposed to sit on the floor? Or did he mistakenly identify the piece of furniture as a table, when it was really a large Japanese-style stool?

"The floor is not good enough for Your Highness?" sneered Suzaku.

Lelouch swallowed a retort, feeling a mix between embarrassment and annoyance.

"No, it's fine," stated Lelouch.

He sat quietly for a couple of minutes, until Suzaku walked back into the room with two ceramic tea cups on a tray.

Lelouch cleared his throat.

"What's your problem with me, Suzaku?"

Suzaku set down the tray on the table, glaring at him.

"I do not want you here. Because you are here, I have to look after you. My free time is gone," complained Suzaku.

Lelouch frowned.

"I didn't ask to come here. I'm here right now because my _father_ ordered me to, just like you," retorted Lelouch.

"Do not compare me to you! I am nothing like you! You have no place here. Go back to Britannia!" roared Suzaku.

Lelouch stood, irritated. The idiot didn't seem to understand that he wasn't here by choice. He would have happily packed his bags and gone to Pendragon if that was an option. Sadly, it wasn't.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?" criticized Lelouch.

An appeal to authority.

He would bring up Suzaku's mother in an accusative manner, implying that Suzaku's lack of hospitality was the result of failed parenting. Naturally, of course, Suzaku would deny this accusation. Judging from Genbu's warm reception earlier, it was safe to say that his wife likely shared a similar mindset regarding guests and hospitality. It would be a trivial task to emphasize this point to make Suzaku reign in his aggression.

A fist came out of nowhere, slamming into his cheek.

"Don't talk about my mother!"

Lelouch staggered back into the sliding door, ripping a large hole in the paper material.

He had miscalculated. He should have seen this coming, seeing as Suzaku's mother hadn't been present to greet him earlier. Perhaps she had divorced or died, or was terminally ill. Either way, this topic was an obvious landmine and should have been avoided. Unfortunately, he had overlooked such a small detail.

Suzaku's ferocious assault was wild and unpredictable. Lelouch brought up his hands to protect his face and weather the storm.

Somebody pounced into the room and seized Suzaku by the collar, dragging him back and throwing him to the side.

"Suzaku! What are you doing! He is our _guest_! How dare you!"

It was Genbu. Lelouch noted that Genbu was using English.

Suzaku looked down in shame.

"Moushiwake arimasen, chichi-ue. Desu ga, kare-"

"I told you to use English in front of our guest! Now apologize to him! Not to me!" interrupted Genbu.

Suzaku scowled, then bowed to Lelouch.

"I am sorry. I should not have hit you," apologized Suzaku.

Genbu placed his hand on the back of Suzaku's head, forcing it lower. He then followed suit with a deep bow.

"Lelouch … please forgive my son. He is very hot-headed and gets into fights easily. It will not happen again," pleaded Genbu.

Lelouch swallowed.

This culture of bowing and whatnot was foreign to him. He really didn't get it… Did they just bow for everything and expect everyone to let bygones be bygones? For a brief moment, he imagined a criminal being sentenced to a million bows.

Either way, he wasn't really in a position to refuse.

"Mr. Kururugi, it's all water under the bridge," stated Lelouch.

Genbu frowned, staring at him in confusion.

"Why are you talking about water under a bridge?" he asked.

Lelouch blinked.

"Um… That is a figure of speech. It means that we can forget about what happened in the past," he explained patiently.

Genbu slapped Suzaku on the back.

"It's time for your Kendo lesson. Tohdoh is waiting," stated Genbu.

As Suzaku walked past him, he snarled, "This is my country, not yours. Go back to Britannia!"

As Lelouch reflected on those words, he almost didn't hear Genbu offering to show him the way to his room.

He couldn't deny that Suzaku's words were true.

He didn't belong in this country, he had no place here. But at the same time, he had no place in Britannia.

He was a hostage in a foreign nation, exiled from his own.

In a way, he had no home to return to.

'Home' had died alongside his mother and sister.

His thoughts were interrupted as Genbu placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Lelouch, I will introduce you."

In front of him stood a pair. The taller of the two was an old, bald man with sharp, calculating eyes. In stark contrast, the other was a small, young girl with flowing black hair, at least a few years younger than Lelouch.

"This is Taizou Kirihara, a good friend of mine, and Kaguya Sumeragi, Suzaku's cousin," explained Genbu.

Kirihara raised an eyebrow. "Oh ho, if it isn't the famed commoner prince of Britannia."

Kaguya paid no heed to the tense atmosphere, leaning uncomfortably close to Lelouch.

"Is it true that you were on Flight 273? What _really_ happened? Did the terrorists _really_ blow up the plane?" asked Kaguya excitedly.

Lelouch glared at her. "I'm not an attraction," snapped Lelouch.

"I was just curious!" exclaimed Kaguya. She huffed and stormed off, leaving Lelouch alone with the two men.

"Lelouch, I have a few things to talk about with Kirihara-san. Your room is just around the corner," said Genbu.

He took heed of the obvious dismissal and began heading to his room. It only took a minute for him to locate it.

As he entered and sat on the bed, he noted that it was western-style. He would not have to sleep on the floor. That was a pleasant surprise.

Lelouch stared at the ceiling.

He had no power.

As much as he despised the Social Darwinist rhetoric of his father, it was true that power was important in this world.

And he had none.

When he had stood there in a plane held hostage, he had done nothing. No, that wasn't strictly true. He had tried to intervene. But in the end, he hadn't accomplished anything. That general … that accursed Avery – had damned him to death, uncaring of his royal status. He had survived through sheer luck. That boy in the hospital had pulled him out of the wreckage … what was his name again? He couldn't even remember. Even then, he hadn't escaped unscathed. His monocular vision was a daily reminder of that fact.

And when he had lay in a dark storeroom with his limbs bound, he had been helpless before his captors. He had struggled, done his best to fight back. He had analyzed every possible option and chosen the one with the best outcome. But his best hadn't been good enough. Only Villetta's intervention had saved him.

In the first place, the scenario hadn't been fair.

He had been thrown into an unwinnable situation, where every outcome was a loss.

What could he have possibly done, when the odds had been stacked against him from the very beginning?

His father's words came to mind.

_Too weak, simply too weak._

Anger came over him. Anger at his father, for being such a callous bastard. Anger at all those who had hurt him. Anger at those who had saved him, because he hadn't been able to save himself. Anger at himself, for being so damned weak.

He turned over, rolling on to his side.

His gaze settled on a chess board which he had brought from Britannia.

It was exquisite, with hand-crafted ivory pieces and an antique look.

And he hated it.

Chess was undoubtedly a 'fair game' where there was only one enemy and both sides started off on the same playing field. There was some debate about the advantage that moving first might provide, but generally speaking, most would agree that chess was a balanced game.

Except that it was wrong.

In the first place, to start a game on even footing with an opponent was a strategic mistake. Instead, one should rig the deck in their favor in every possible way before playing the game.

Why had he enjoyed winning chess games so much?

Why had he struggled so desperately in the hope of beating Schneizel in a chess game one day?

It didn't make sense.

It was foolish.

Chess was a not a game of kings. It was a game of fools. The uncomfortable anger erupted into full-blown rage. He was so weak and helpless, always at the whim of fate.

Lelouch got to his feet, grabbing the chess board and throwing it against the opposite wall. It smashed against the wall and cracked, breaking into pieces as it fell to the ground.

His fists shook and trembled, without any release for his rage.

Never again would he play chess, nor any other game that purported to be 'fair'.

He would never place himself in a situation where he could lose.

He had been thought himself too weak to stop his family from being murdered, too weak to do anything about the aircraft hijacking or the kidnapping at the Academy.

In reality, it wasn't that he had been too weak. No, the mistake had been made before that. He had _allowed_ himself to be placed in such a vulnerable position.

In Britannia, he could have ordered guards stationed directly inside Nunnally's room. Failing that, he could have sat guard himself. They had just killed his mother, _of course_ they would come back to finish the job. When he had stormed into the throne room, he had already lost. The moment he stepped inside, there had been no way to win. He should have never entered the room. That had been a mistake.

In the first place, why had he boarded a plane with hundreds of poorly screened passengers? Even if he had been a disgraced prince, he should have arranged private transport. It had been a stupid risk. The moment he had stepped on that plane, he had opened himself to vulnerability after vulnerability. Anything could happen, and he would be helpless.

At the Academy, why had he accepted an anonymous invite? How had he become so carelessly overconfident, so arrogant and sure of himself? Yes, he had rationalized the decision; a library should have been a public place, with many witnesses, he had a companion with a gun, and so on. It had been stupid.

When had he become so foolhardy?

The simple truth was that he didn't want to accept his lack of control over the situation. So many things had happened, and he had felt so helpless.

He had wanted feel in control, even if that control had been a pleasant illusion.

But the truth was that he was utterly powerless.

Wherever he went, whether he lived or die, everything was in the hands of fate.

He hadn't chosen to come to Japan. He had been _sent_ here.

Suzaku's words came back to him.

_You have no place here_ … _this is my country, not yours_.

They were undeniably true.

He had been exiled from Britannia, and was now a glorified hostage in Japan. And now he had nowhere to return to, no place to call home. Months ago, he had sworn to avenge his family and find their killers.

But where would he begin?

Where? How? Who?

Lelouch had absolutely no idea where to start. The sad truth was that he had zero clues. It could be anyone apart from himself. They could be anywhere in the world, with any potential motive – money, power, revenge, and so on.

What could he possibly do?

He was alone.

All alone in this world.

No friends, no family.

Only enemies.

And to think that he had sworn to hunt down his family's killers. The sheer impossibility of the task overwhelmed him.

It was unthinkable.

It was hopeless.

What chance did he have?

He hadn't even begun the search yet, and he had nearly died twice.

An uncomfortable feeling emerged in his chest.

His throat felt heavy, and his eyes began to tear.

Why had they left him alive? They had killed his mother and sister with ease. Why didn't they kill him as well?

Things would have been simpler.

Instead, he was doomed to a life of suffering and hardship, a relentless struggle in the pursuit of an impossible task.

It would be easier to just disappear.

It wasn't as if he loved his homeland. He wouldn't be able to step foot back in it again for a long time, anyway.

It would be easier to forget the past, to leave behind who he was.

There would be an initial ripple in the media over a missing prince, but Britannia would quickly forget him in favor of the next exciting fad. After all, there were over a score of other princes and princesses.

He swallowed.

Would anyone care if he disappeared?

If he walked away from it all, who would mourn his absence?

He was alone in this world.

He brought up one hand to brush away the wetness forming in his eye.

He was exhausted. His body ached all over, with bruises and scrapes from all the incidents he had been caught up in. He felt lethargic and fatigued, with all his will sapped.

The darkness embraced him gently and he lost consciousness, slipping into a fitful, uneasy rest.


	5. Moonlight

Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass.

* * *

Lelouch jerked awake, feeling as if he hadn't gotten any rest. To his right, there was a tray of food – a bowl of rice, fish, and some kind of vegetable he didn't recognize. There was also a small, ceramic cup in the corner of the tray that looked to be tea, although the scent was unfamiliar to him.

Despite skipping dinner last night, he didn't feel like eating anything. It wasn't that the food was unsightly – in fact, it was presented quite well – but he simply didn't have the appetite.

As Lelouch got out of bed, his movements were sluggish. He staggered over to the door, opening it.

Sunlight kissed his face, and he reflexively brought up one hand to shield himself.

As he walked down the hallway outside his room, thoughts swirled in his head.

He had no game plan, absolutely no idea on how to proceed.

He was stuck in a foreign country, with only a modest sum of money and a few personal effects he had brought from Britannia.

What was he going to do?

His legs carried him to the Kururugi Shrine Dojo, where he heard the sound of clashing wood and the occasional yell.

As he stepped into the entryway, he noticed Suzaku facing a man in his early thirties with a sharp gaze and a stern expression. Suzaku had a loose, white uniform donned, with a long, black dress of some kind that reached his ankles. Something that looked analogous to a fencing mask covered his head. In sharp contrast to Suzaku, the man was bare-chested and lacked headwear. However, both of them carried long, wooden swords in their hands.

Seconds after he entered the building, the man barked something at Suzaku, who immediately froze mid-swing and stepped back.

Nodding in satisfaction, he turned to Lelouch.

"Lelouch vi Britannia. I am Tohdoh Kyoshiro. Kirihara-san ask me train Suzaku-kun. We are doing kendo. You come?"

Lelouch noted that Tohdoh spoke with a heavy accent and rolled the L's in his name. Even then, he appreciated Tohdoh's attempt to speak a language he was clearly uncomfortable with.

"Mr. Kyoshiro…" replied Lelouch hesitantly. "Or is it Mr. Tohdoh? I appreciate the offer, but I must decline."

When it came to English, Japanese people, or at least the ones he had met so far, seemed horribly inconsistent in name order – some put their given name first, others put their family name first, and he had no idea how to distinguish between the two. As he began to walk away, Suzaku muttered something in Japanese under the breath, causing Tohdoh to admonish him.

He should have continued walking away. He should have pretended to have heard nothing. After all, his situation was precarious enough already. He really wasn't in a position to pick fights.

And yet, for some inexplicable reason, he turned around, demanding, "What was that?"

Perhaps it was pride, curiosity, or irritation. Perhaps it was inter-male aggression born of biological instinct. Perhaps he was still smarting from the one-sided beating he had been the recipient of yesterday.

Suzaku stared at him.

"I said you are weak. Your body is like a girl. How can you do kendo?"

Anger flared up in him, bursting out before it could be restrained.

"This is the twenty-first century. Why would I want to learn sword-fighting? What use could that possibly be in a modern setting?" spat Lelouch furiously. "Utterly ludicrous. What a waste of time."

The moment his words exploded outwards, regret engulfed him. He didn't particularly like Suzaku, but he hadn't intended to say anything. It had … just happened. He had lost control, and he felt ashamed.

Lelouch turned to Tohdoh and bowed his head.

"It was not my intention to imply that your martial art is a waste of time. I meant that it … will serve no purpose in furthering my goals. I'm sorry for the outburst."

He turned and quickly exited the building, regretting the choice to enter it in the first place.

This time he began to wander the grounds aimlessly, rather than leaving the choice up to his curiosity. There was a vast forest behind the property, and he made his way there, idly wandering inside.

For the first time, the whirling maelstrom of conflicting thoughts and emotions that dominated his mind settled down into a gentle breeze. He felt an inner calm descend on him.

Here, he was sheltered from the harsh rays of the sun. The treetops weaved together to provide a verdant, viridescent canopy that let just enough light through for him to see.

There were no signs of civilization and its telltale signs; worn trails, concrete paths, man-made signs, discarded plastic bottles.

This was nature au naturel, and it was stunning. He had never seen anything like this in his life.

The carefully cultivated and meticulously maintained gardens at the Imperial Villa at Aries were a poor knock-off by comparison.

Eventually, Lelouch reached a small clearing, where he decided to take a rest.

There was a gentle, steady stream with a width of about one stride meandering through the clearing, with rocks of various sizes scattered around. The stream didn't look very deep – if he stood in it, the water wouldn't even reach his knees.

He picked one of the bigger rocks and sat down on it, looking around at his surroundings.

There was something soothing about the merry gurgling of the water in the stream as it flowed by him.

And then he looked up, and it was breath-taking.

Through the small gap in the canopy, he could see a colossal, snow-tipped mountain. This was yet another first for him. Back in Pendragon, all the nearby mountains had been lumpy, misshapen mountain ranges. By contrast, the mountain before him seemed majestic as it rose alone, unaided by neighbors, and culminated into a near-symmetrical cone that pierced the clouds and reached for the heavens.

As he sat there, his mind began to wander, daring to dream of the impossible.

What if his family had never been attacked that fateful night? Would he still be enjoying those gentle days full of tea parties and chess games, where Euphemia and Nunnally would rope him into their games as Cornelia frowned disapprovingly?

If he had grown up in Pendragon, how would he have ended up? Would he have followed in Schneizel's footsteps by pursuing politics? Or would he have gone into business, or perhaps the military? Frankly, he had no idea.

Marianne's death had been unpredictable, completely out of the blue. But Nunnally's hadn't. It was incredibly selfish of him, but he couldn't help but wish that she had survived to keep him company. With no allies, no friends in this wide world, he was so incredibly alone.

No, it was better this way. He wouldn't wish the things he had been through recently on Suzaku, let alone his sister.

A voice behind from behind jerked him out of his musings, and he realized that the sun had already fallen.

"Why do you look so sad?"

It was the girl from yesterday, who he had met along with an old man.

In the soft embrace of moonlight, her skin was a soft, delicate pastel. Her emerald eyes radiated warmth, with her face framed in a curtain of long, silky black hair.

She followed the direction of his gaze, looking upwards to the night sky.

"What are you looking at? The moon? Fuji-san?" she asked curiously.

She took a seat on the rock beside him and reached into her pocket, bringing out a small object wrapped in paper.

"Do you want some? I always feel better when I eat something sweet."

He stared at her, then at the object in her hand. It was a lumpy, dough-like confectionary of some sort.

"What's that?" he questioned.

She frowned, thinking for a moment on how best to reply.

"Eh … This is … maccha and inside is anko."

He raised an eyebrow, sweeping his gaze upwards to stare at her disbelievingly.

"That doesn't tell me a thing, you realize?"

She puffed up her cheeks in mock anger.

"English is hard, you know! I don't know the English name for it! Just eat it, baka!" she scowled.

He reached out and took a piece, placing it inside his mouth. The taste was unfamiliar, but it was not an unpleasant sensation.

As he chewed, she asked, "Hey, do you want to hear a story?"

Lelouch shrugged dispassionately and replied, "Okay."

It wasn't as if he had anything else to do.

She pointed upwards towards the full moon and continued, "This is a story about Kaguya-hime and the moon."

Suddenly, he recalled her name. Suzaku's father had introduced her as Kaguya yesterday.

"That sounds a lot like your name," he commented. "But what does 'hime' mean?"

"That means princess. Like if you were a girl, you'd be Lelouch-hime."

He nodded. "I understand. But what about 'san' and 'kun'? I heard those used earlier."

"That's really simple," chirped Kaguya. "Kun is … usually for boys. Like you or Suzaku-kun. There's other ways it's used, but don't worry about that! There's also 'chan', that's for girls. But you can't say that to a stranger, it has to be for people who are close. 'San' is for everything else."

He paused, taking in her explanation.

"Anyway, once upon a time, there was an old man walking in a forest. He found some shiny bamboo."

"Why bamboo? What does this have to do with the moon?" interjected Lelouch impatiently.

"Mou, stop interrupting! Just listen!" demanded Kaguya. "Anyway, his job was cutting bamboo. Like … a lumberjack. Except with bamboo. So … a bamboojack? Anyway! He found some shiny bamboo, and when he cut it open he found a girl inside, so he named her Kaguya-hime. After that, whenever he went to cut bamboo down, he found gold inside!"

"Money doesn't grow on trees." muttered Lelouch.

"Kaguya-hime grew up and was really pretty." continued Kaguya, ignoring the interruption. "So five princes wanted to marry her. But they had to do a challenge to marry her."

"What is this, Hercules? Will they have to slay lions and steal apples?" snarked Lelouch.

Kaguya whacked his shoulder in annoyance.

"No! Why would they kill a lion? That's scary! Anyway, they all failed. And then the Emperor came to marry her! But she said no."

"That's ridiculous. In Britannia, most people would give anything to marry into royalty, you know," complained Lelouch.

Kaguya rolled her eyes. "Anyway, one day, she looked up at the full moon and got really sad. She told everyone that she came from the moon. She said that she got in trouble, so they sent her to the Earth as a punishment. The gold in the bamboo was to pay for her food and stuff."

Lelouch went silent, and Kaguya continued on.

"One day, people from the Moon came to get her. She said good-bye to the old man and wrote a letter to the Emperor. When she left, the Emperor was really sad, and he asked someone where the highest mountain was."

Kaguya turned, pointing to the majestic mountain rising up behind them right below the moon.

"So they went to Fuji-san. The Emperor went to the very top of Fuji-san and burned the letter, hoping that it would reach her."

As she turned back to Lelouch, she noticed tears running down his face.

"Eh? Eeeehh!? Why are you crying!? Did I do something wrong?"

Kaguya glanced around in a panic, unsure of what to do. Then she leaned forward and brought her arms around Lelouch in a gentle embrace.

"I'm … jealous," he whispered bitterly.

Frustration crept into his voice and his small frame began to tremble erratically.

"Why does she have everything? A home to return to! A family who love her! Why?"

Kaguya rubbed his back lightly.

He stilled all of a sudden and the raw emotion quenched, settling into resigned melancholy.

"And I'm alone."

She brought her hand up from the small of his back to stroke the back of his head.

"No, you're not. I'm here. I'll be your friend. You can talk to me."

He slowly raised his head, gazing at her face.

"You would do that…?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, I would," she replied.

"Why? I've been exiled to Japan … I'm little better than a prince of rags, with barely any influence, power, or wealth to my name. I have nothing to offer."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not exactly poor, you know. The Sumeragi Concern is one of the biggest companies in Japan. And as for royalty … the Sumeragis were a branch of the Imperial Family, you know. Well, not that it matters much, since they got rid of that stuff after the First Pacific War."

For the first time in a while, Lelouch smiled.

"Then perhaps I should call you Kaguya-hime as well," he teased.

She giggled.

"I like the sound of that. But I think you shouldn't … or I'll start asking everyone else to call me that."

Lelouch smirked and replied, "I'd love to see Suzaku groveling on his knees calling you that."

Kaguya glanced at her wristwatch.

"Shimatta! Mou konna jikan," exclaimed Kaguya, before glancing up at Lelouch. "I need to go now! I'll be in trouble for being so late …"

As she turned to dash off, a hand clasped her wrist.

"Kaguya … thank you," whispered Lelouch.

She smiled and said, "You can come talk to me anytime. You're way more fun to talk to than Suzaku anyway … all he cares about is kendo. Bye bye!"

As he sat there watching her waning figure, he couldn't help the bright smile on his face.

Things were looking up.

"Dear Mr. Ashford … I would like to- no, that's too direct. Something more subtle, perhaps… How about, it wo-" mumbled Lelouch as he rapidly tapped on the keyboard of the laptop in front of him.

Suddenly a hand slapped his back and he jerked in response, nearly knocking the laptop off the table.

As he turned around, he noticed Kaguya behind him, and he smirked.

"Perfect. I can show you my progress," stated Lelouch.

He cleared his throat and began to enunciate carefully.

"Konnichiwa. Watashi no namae wa Lelouch desu."

She stared at him for a few moments, then began to snicker. As her laughter grew, she covered her face with her hands and looked away.

"What? Why are you laughing? What did I say wrong?" spluttered Lelouch, embarrassed and uncomfortable.

Kaguya waved her hand. "No, it's not wrong. But no one says it like that! You don't need 'watashi' or 'namae', you can just say 'Lelouch desu'. Like, in English you don't say 'my name is Lelouch', you just say 'I'm Lelouch', right? Also, 'watashi' is for girls, you should use 'boku'. And when you introduce yourself, you don't say 'konnichiwa', you say 'hajimemashite'. Also, it's morning right now, so you should say 'ohayou'."

Lelouch frowned, looking down at the stack of books he had purchased. The top-most book was titled "Japanese for Dummies".

"This is more complicated than I thought," complained Lelouch. "I already memorized all the hiragana and the katakana... Why can't Japanese just use an alphabet system? There's so many characters to learn… and the grammar is unintuitive and arbitrary."

Kaguya patted his head.

"It's okay. I still think English is really hard too, you know," she consoled.

"By the way, I'm a little curious as to why you're fluent in English. English proficiency doesn't seem to be a major occurrence in Japan … Suzaku and Tohdoh don't seem to have a strong grasp of the language. Admittedly, that's a limited sample size, but I doubt they're the exception to the norm," queried Lelouch.

"Eh… I really like mystery and romance stories. But they never translate them to Japanese! So I learned English. That way I can read ones from Britannia and the EU. Also, I watch lots and lots of movies," she explained.

"Anyway, that's not what I came here for. You're coming with me now!" demanded Kaguya.

"What? Where are we going? Don't I have any say in this?" protested Leouch, as she grabbed his hand and tried to drag him off.

"We're going to a restaurant! I asked oji-san, and he said okay. But we have to bring Suzaku-kun. You'll love it! We're gonna eat tonkatsu."

He stumbled along as she pulled him through the house, and they soon reached the dojo.

She stepped inside and yelled, "Suzaku-kun, Tanakatsu ni ikitai ka?"

The loud clashing of wood stopped abruptly, and moments later the boy in question appeared.

The smile disappeared off his face as he noticed who stood behind Kaguya, and he stepped towards her, mumbling in a tone too low for Lelouch to hear. Kaguya scowled and whispered back something to him, causing Suzaku to sigh resignedly.

Tohdoh stepped in from behind Suzaku, then formed a rare smile and saluted Kaguya.

"Ojou-sama, kouun wo inorimasu!" shouted Tohdoh.

"Ryoukai shimashita!" replied Kaguya, returning the salute.

As they walked away with an unhappy Suzaku in tow, Lelouch leaned over and asked Kaguya, "What does that mean?"

She giggled and replied, "Eh… that's like our tradition. We do it all the time. Tohdoh says something that means … eh… like 'Godspeed'. And then I say 'roger'. He's a chuusa in the army. I don't know what that rank is called in English, but it's really high up. He's super-important!"

He nodded and said nothing more. The explanation was sufficient.

A minute later, they arrived at the driveway, where a sleek, black car with tinted windows sat. A heavyset man in a black suit and dark sunglasses opened the door for them.

As they piled in, Lelouch asked Kaguya, "Where's Mr. Kururugi?"

She shook her head. "Oji-san is busy. It's just us three, plus our bodyguard. And the driver."

As the car began to move, Suzaku took manga out of his backpack and began reading. Kaguya sighed and turned to Lelouch.

"See what I mean? It's no fun to hang out with Suzaku…" grumbled Kaguya.

They chatted idly for a while, and soon the car pulled to a stop in a small parking lot behind a restaurant.

As they got out, Lelouch pointed at the sign.

"I can read that. Ta… na… ka… tsu." stated Lelouch. "By the way, I have a question, Kaguya. On the way, we passed by an advertisement that said 'begitaburu' with a picture of vegetables. I can understand the incorporation of foreign loanwords, but one of the textbooks had 'yasai' for vegetables in the vocab list. What's going on?"

She scratched her cheek. "Well, there isn't really any reason why… They just felt like using it. Maybe because it's cool? Like in English, sometimes you use Latin words randomly, right?"

"Irasshaimase!" shouted several waiters as they entered the shop.

The driver ended up staying in the car, while the bodyguard escorted them to their table.

Kaguya grabbed a menu and began flipping through it excitedly.

"Hm… what should we order for you…? To curry or not to curry, that is the question!"

"Don't I get a choice in the matter?" protested Lelouch weakly.

Kaguya shook her head. "Nope! I'm picking for you. If you don't like it, we can swap. But don't worry, you'll definitely like it. This is the best tonkatsu you can get here. It's super high-quality!"

Lelouch sighed.

"He is Britannian … just order a lot of niku. Britannians like niku," claimed Suzaku, nonchalantly dismissing Lelouch's worries.

Lelouch glanced at Kaguya in concern. "What's niku?" asked Lelouch.

"Niku is meat," replied Kaguya. "Don't worry, I've already decided."

As she placed their orders, Lelouch sighed again. Well, it wasn't too bad. He appreciated the gesture. She was just a bit pushy though. Still, better than Suzaku, who seemed to harbor some kind of resentment for him.

As they waited for the food to arrive, a loud commotion began to form at the opposite end of the restaurant, causing their bodyguard to tense slightly and reach into his jacket.

"Are you saying you don't have pizza here? I want to see your manager!" demanded a female voice.

"Eh … Sorry … This is tonkatsu … eh … resutoran. No sell piza," replied a waiter in a halting, broken tone.

The young woman left in a huff, grumbling about Japanese cuisine.

Lelouch watched her wide-eyed, then turned to Kaguya.

"They sell pizza here? All the menu pictures had deep-fried cutlets…" asked Lelouch.

Kaguya waved her hand from side to side.

"Why would they sell pizza? They sell tonkatsu and stuff, pizza doesn't fit the image, right?"

"Crazy Britannian…" mumbled Suzaku, looking back down to continue reading his manga.

Kaguya nudged Lelouch. "You're supposed to grind the sesame."

He looked down at the bowl and grabbed the mortar.

The bodyguard sitting beside Suzaku looked at his watch, frowning, then stood up and walked towards the kitchen, ignoring the protests of the waiters he passed by.

About two minutes later, the bodyguard arrived with the chef in tow and several trays of food.

"That's your one, Lelouch," she told him, pointing to the one closest to them.

"Sumeragi-sama, itsumo a-" began the chef, and Lelouch tuned them out as he observed the food. On the tray, there was a large cutlet of deep-fried pork, with a tall, fluffy mountain of shredded cabbage, a bowl of steaming, white rice, and another bowl that was covered.

The second tray featured a large bowl with a mixture of chicken and egg served on top of the rice, while the last tray looked similar to his, except that it included curry.

And then Lelouch did a double take. The tray actually had _two_ cutlets. The portion size was literally twice the size of his own. He glanced at Kaguya and Suzaku, wondering which one possessed such a ferocious appetite.

Lelouch picked up the chopsticks, frowning. He looked up hesitantly, and Kaguya nodded to the bodyguard, who stood up.

This time, it only took thirty seconds for him to return with a fork and knife. Lelouch speared a slice of the deep-fried pork with his fork and put in his mouth.

It was delicious. Crispy and crunchy on the outside, yet juicy and tender on the inside. He took a sip of tea to wash it down, then nearly burned his tongue as the tea was still quite hot.

As he chewed, an idea came to him.

"Hey, Kaguya. You told me the story of Kaguya-hime recently. Let me return the favor. Hm … Greek mythology would be more interesting, but it would be fitting to pick a story from my own homeland. Have you ever heard the tale of King Arthur?" proposed Lelouch.

Kaguya shook her head.

"I've heard of it … but I don't know that much about it."

"Excellent," stated Lelouch. "A long time ago, a King named Uther Pendragon had a son named Arthur."

"Pendragon? Isn't that the name of the capital?" asked Kaguya.

"Yes, that is where the name came from. King Arthur is perhaps the most prominent of all the legends in Britannian folklore," explained Lelouch. "King Uther's advisor, a magician named Merlin, advised him to conceal Arthur's identity and raise him in secret, because his reign was politically unstable and the threat of assassination was high."

"When King Uther died, there were a lot of competing claims for the throne, and Merlin declared that whoever could pull a sword out of the stone would be the next king," continued Lelouch.

Suzaku perked up, trying to pretend that he wasn't interested.

"One day, Sir Ector, who raised Arthur, brought him and his son, Sir Kay, to a jousting tournament. But Sir Kay forget his sword, so he asked Arthur to go back and bring it to him. Arthur went to the sword in the stone and pulled it out to give to Sir Kay. Sir Kay recognized the sword as the sword in the stone, so he told Sir Ector that he pulled the sword out."

At this point, Suzaku scowled, his manga left forgotten on his lap. Kaguya noticed this and leaned over to whisper in Lelouch's ear.

"Speak slower, Lelouch. I think Suzaku's interested," murmured Kaguya.

He nodded, continuing. "Sir Ector made Sir Kay tell him the truth, so they went to the stone and Arthur proved that he could pull the sword out of the stone. A lot of _nobility_ came and tried to replicate his feat, but they all failed, so Arthur was declared the king."

Lelouch spat the word 'nobility' in disgust, and Kaguya and Suzaku recoiled at the vitriol in his tone.

"After Arthur became king, he gathered many knights and repelled the encroaching Saxon invasion of Britain, although it took many battles. Arthur even acquired a magical sword called 'Excalibur'; arguably the best-known legendary sword in modern day Britannia. They slew dragons and monsters, they saved damsels, and they went on many quests. I won't go into detail about those adventures, but there's a considerable amount of stories regarding that."

Lelouch cleared his throat and took another sip of tea.

"Anyway, Sir Lancelot, the greatest knight of King Arthur at that time, fell in love with his wife, Queen Guinevere. King Arthur put her on trial for adultery, and Lancelot rode in with his men to save her. Arthur furiously chased Lancelot into France, leaving his nephew Mordred in charge. But Mordred took advantage of the situation and declared himself king, so Arthur had to return to defend his throne and fight Mordred. Their armies clashed in a great battle, and Arthur managed to slay Mordred, although he was mortally wounded in the process. As he lay on his deathbed, he requested Excalibur to be returned to where he got it."

"It sounds super-exciting! I feel soooo sorry for Lancelot!" gushed Kaguya.

He turned to Suzaku and blinked in surprise, seeing Suzaku's watery eyes.

"Even though he is Britannian… King Arthur is brave," sniffed Suzaku. "Totemo kandou shimashita …"

""What?" whispered Lelouch to Kaguya.

"He said he was really moved," she elaborated.

Lelouch resisted the urge to palm his face and continued eating. He then noticed that while Kaguya was barely half-done, Suzaku's plate was empty.

To his eternal shame, his brain shut down for a brief moment, and he stared uncomprehendingly at Suzaku's food, or lack of.

How had Suzaku finished his double-portion faster than either of them? In the first place, how had Suzaku even finished such a big portion? Where did it all go?

Kaguya misunderstood his gaze and explained, "Suzaku got chicken-katsu with curry, while you got pork. I got … actually, the name is really interesting. This dish is called 'oyakodon'. The 'oya' means parent, and the 'ko' means child, since it's a chicken and an egg. You get it?"

He shuddered. That was somewhat disturbing; sometimes the Japanese were a little scary.

"Well, King Arthur would probably weep if he knew we lost the British Isles to the French, of all people," concluded Lelouch.

"Nee, Lelouch. After this we're going to go to the bookstore, okay?" said Kaguya.

Lelouch shrugged. "Won't they all be in Japanese?"

"No, there will be a small English section. And Suzaku wants to get some manga, so everyone wins!" explained Kaguya.

"Wait … this isn't some ploy to make me carry your shopping, is it?" questioned Lelouch.

"Don't worry, Kondo-san will take care of all that," replied Kaguya. "Right, Kondo-san?"

She turned to glance at their bodyguard, and he nodded. "Hai, Ojou-sama."

Soon they finished their meal and made their way to the bookstore. As it was fairly nearby, they didn't take the car. His foreign looks drew a few stares, but the presence of a man garbed in a black suit and dark sunglasses ensued that their fellow pedestrians gave them a wide berth. In fact, some even crossed the road to avoid them, whispering 'yakuza' and doing their best to avert their eyes.

When they reached the bookstore, Kaguya dived past several shelves, disappearing out of sight, while Suzaku made his way towards the manga section.

Lelouch frowned and looked around. The so-called 'English section' was … fairly basic, to say the least. A few bestseller novels, a handful of biographies, and some travel guides.

Kaguya made her way back with a stack of books, depositing them into Kondo's hands, then grabbed Lelouch by the wrist and dragged him to the manga section.

"You said you wanted to learn Japanese, right? Some of the manga have furigana, which are small kana under the characters to help you read them. I recommend this one," stated Kaguya, pointing to the shelf next to her. "It's super-romantic, with a princess who runs away and becomes a mermaid!"

He blinked. "Uh … okay."

She dashed off, leaving him to his own devices, and Suzaku ambled over, having heard her advice.

"No. That one is for girls. This one is good. Hero use big sword, fight magic. Very brave …" emphasized Suzaku.

Lelouch stared at the manga Suzaku had shoved into his hands and flipped through the pages.

Half an hour later, they left, with Kondo carrying three large bags filled to the brim with books.

As they got into the car and buckled their seatbelts, Lelouch reached over and pulled a book out of the bag. His vocabulary wasn't large enough to understand the manga, but he could get the gist of the story from the pictures.

To his right, Kaguya had slumped onto his shoulder, tired out and fast asleep. On her right, Suzaku was immersed in his own manga.

Lelouch yawned, his own exhaustion catching up with him.

It had been a long day.

He leaned back and closed his eyes.


	6. First Gambit

Click.

Click clack click.

Click clack click clack click.

Lelouch's fingers flew across the keyboard at inhuman speeds, defying logic and rejecting reality… or so he liked to think.

In reality, he barely attained a speed of one hundred words per minute – a fairly impressive speed, especially for a boy of ten – but still a long ways from superhuman.

Lelouch yawned, bringing up one hand to cover his mouth. It was February now, and the cold bite of winter blanketed his body and chilled his bones.

He had been in Japan for several months and learned many things in that period. For instance, the table in front of him was a cross between a table, a blanket, and a heater; the _kotatsu_. A blanket hung down the sides of the table, trapping air in a pocket beneath the table, while the heater attached to the underside of the table heated the air.

Needless to say, it was very warm and comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that it had swallowed up two others in the room.

To his left, a small foot poked out as Kaguya rolled on to her side beneath the kotatsu. As if it had realized he had noticed it, the foot withdrew back in like a frightened turtle.

Across from him, he could see the back of Suzaku's head. Occasionally, his head would bob slightly as he turned a page of the manga he was reading.

With the exception of the two guards standing outside, the three of them were the only ones left in the house. Today was a holiday, and Genbu had allowed the chef and maids time off to visit their families.

The typing stopped as the roar of an engine preluded loud shouting outside, and Lelouch turned, straining his ears to listen. Kaguya jolted out of her nap, bumping her head on the underside of the table. Suzaku pulled himself free of the kotatsu, heading out of the room to investigate the commotion.

Lelouch frowned. The argument sounded angry and violent.

He leaned over and peered through a gap in the curtains, eye widening in surprise to see a man punch one of the guards at the gate.

Lelouch turned back to look at Kaguya.

"We've got a problem."

"We should go warn Suzaku," she suggested, pursing her lips hesitantly.

He looked back and watched as two men dragged Suzaku from the door, holding him down as he struggled.

"Too late for that," commented Lelouch. "Suzaku really is way too hot-headed… you wouldn't imagine Tohdoh-san to be his sensei…"

Seven in total. Two restraining Suzaku, who was still trying to claw and kick his way free, with another two guarding their guards. Behind them stood a man in an expensive-looking suit, likely their leader. The last two had already entered the house, no doubt in search of them.

He handed his phone to Kaguya.

"Call for help first. I'll think of a way out of this," said Lelouch.

Lelouch turned back once again, looking around the room.

_Perfect._

He grabbed Kaguya by the arm and pointed at the cupboard.

It wasn't really a cupboard, not by western standards. It resembled a built-in closet more closely, except it was far wider than it was high. There was a shelf in the middle that divided it horizontally, causing it to be partitioned into two compartments. Both compartments held futon – Japanese bedding typically stored during the day.

"Let's hide in there," suggested Lelouch.

"Are you sure?" questioned Kaguya, uncertainty in her tone.

"When it comes to this kind of thing, I'm your senpai, you know. I have a lot of experience…" muttered Lelouch unhappily.

Lelouch waved his hand, dismissing her concerns, and she began to make the call.

"Moshi moshi… Kirihara-ojiichan? Watashitachi-" began Kaguya.

He tapped a few keys on his laptop, opening his browser and accessing his email account before turning the computer until the display screen faced away from the door.

Lelouch then joined Kaguya in the cupboard, closing the sliding door until a hairline crack was left, barely enough to see through. She handed his phone back.

"Twenty five minutes until help comes," said Kaguya.

Lelouch glanced at his watch, noting the time. He then pulled out a large black device that was slightly too large for his hands and Kaguya stared at it.

"What's that?" she whispered.

He quickly shushed her and they waited in silence. A minute passed, then two. The darkness became stifling and Kaguya shifted slightly. Suddenly, the door opened and a man stumbled in, looking around.

Lelouch smirked triumphantly and murmured, "All conditions cleared."

He tapped his phone and the laptop's screen lit up.

"You've got mail! You've got mail!"

The man jerked in surprise, his attention drawn to the laptop and the Britannian voice coming from it.

As he walked over to the laptop and leaned over to examine it, Lelouch pushed the door open and sprung from his hiding place, covering the short distance in a second and jabbing the man's inner thigh with his gadget.

Tiny forks of lightning flicked out and the man jerked involuntarily before falling to the floor.

Kaguya climbed out, staring first at the man, then at him.

"What was that?"

"In the past year, I've been held hostage, kidnapped, beaten up, and nearly assassinated. You think I wouldn't have taken some precautions?" smirked Lelouch, sitting on the man's chest.

As the man struggled to get up, Lelouch zapped him again.

He shifted forward, holding the stun gun up to the man's neck. The man stopped struggling, staring cross-eyed at the device at his neck.

"Kaguya, tell this man that if I flick a switch, I can increase the amperage from five milliamps to one hundred, which can trigger ventricular fibrillation."

"Eh? I don't even know what that means…" muttered Kaguya.

"If I flick this switch, it will kill him," restated Lelouch.

"Why didn't you just say that…" complained Kaguya, "Eh? You're really going to kill him?"

Lelouch rolled his eye. "No, that was a bluff. I couldn't even get my hands on a tazer, Japan's way too strict on these things… Anyways, just do it, please. We don't have a lot of time."

As she translated, he mulled over how he could resolve their situation. The man swore loudly but assented to his captivity, unwilling to call the bluff.

"Okay, Kaguya," said Lelouch. "I need to know what these men are after."

She averted his gaze.

"I didn't want you to get involved in this kind of stuff, you know…" mumbled Kaguya.

"Just tell me!" demanded Lelouch.

"These people… they're Yakuza. They want me… I don't know specifically why, there's a lot of reasons. They're definitely from Kanto though… maybe Kisaragi's or Miyazawa's…"

"But they need you alive, yes?" pressed Lelouch.

Kaguya nodded, and he continued, "Go lie down on the kotatsu. Tell the man to stand in front of the cupboard."

The man quickly complied with her demand as she sat on the kotatsu, and Lelouch climbed onto the shelf, crawling in behind the man and pulling the door closed once again, this time with a larger gap – enough space for his hand and the stun gun to poke out.

His eye quickly flitted to his watch – twenty-one minutes left.

"Now tell him to call his friend in the building. Tell him to say that he's found you, but he needs help carrying you. Make sure that he keeps his voice down – we don't want the people outside to hear – only his friend already inside the building. If he tries to pull anything, then I'll stab him with this and electrocute him."

She relayed his instructions, lying down, and the man called out to his friend in Japanese.

Lelouch heard a reply from the other side of the house.

"The guy made fun of him. He said that he's really weak if he can't carry a little girl," interpreted Kaguya, with her head turned towards Lelouch as she lay on the table.

Lelouch sighed. "Tell him to say that you're really fat, like a whale or something."

Kaguya smacked him on the shoulder.

"I'm not fat! Y-" she exclaimed angrily, before he quietly hushed her.

"Do you want to make it out of this alive or not? Just do what I say and we'll be fine," said Lelouch in a serious tone.

Kaguya folded her arms and reluctantly told the man.

As the reply came once again, Kaguya said, "He's coming."

Lelouch smirked.

"Fantastic. Now relax and watch the show," he proclaimed.

His watch told him that they needed to hold out for another nineteen minutes. Once again, silence descended on the room as they waited quietly. This time, however, they only had to wait about a minute before a man entered the room and stepped towards his friend.

When he was about an arm's length away, Lelouch depressed the trigger on his stun gun and pushed his convulsing captive into the man. As they fell to the floor, Lelouch jabbed the metal prongs into the neck of the new thug and began to zap him.

After liberal usage of his stun gun, the man stopped resisting.

"Kaguya, tell both of them to lie face down with their hands above their head."

As they complied with her instructions, he gave the first thug an extra jolt to dissuade the man and his shifty-looking expression, then stepped to the side, peeking through the window.

They had a bit of a problem.

Outside, there were still five men; four thugs and their leader, impatiently waiting for their comrades to bring in their prey. Even if he could lure them in one by one, there was no way he could keep them restrained – Kaguya wasn't much of a threat, and he only had two arms and a single weapon.

To make things worse, the room they were in didn't have anything that could be used effectively to tie up the men either. They didn't have anything to cut up the futon and the kotatsu blanket, which was obviously too large to use, and there wasn't any rope, string or tape in the room.

Sending Kaguya or going himself to get something from another room was also too dangerous. There was no guarantee that the two men wouldn't take advantage of the opportunity and attempt to overwhelm the one left in the room.

Sixteen minutes left.

Lelouch racked his brain for a minute, then considered one possibility.

"Kaguya, take this," said Lelouch, handing her the stun gun. "Just sit on them, and if they move, hold this end to their neck and push this button. Make sure you hold it for at least one second."

"Eh!? Eh!? I don't know…" protested Kaguya, but she reluctantly accepted his request.

He walked over to his laptop, sighing heavily.

Then he powered it off, waiting a few seconds before smashing it on the edge of the kotatsu. The screen display ripped off, separating from the keyboard side. Lelouch grabbed the wires dangling like entrails between the two sides and pulled them free.

"What are you doing, Lelouch!?" exclaimed Kaguya.

Another mournful sigh escaped Lelouch. If only he had brought his laptop charger or his Ethernet cable…

"There's enough wire to tie them up," explained Lelouch.

He grabbed a length of wire and sat on the back of the man closest to him, tying his arms. Lelouch quickly did the same for the other man, then stood up again.

"Okay, now we're going to put them inside a futon, then shove them inside the cupboard," said Lelouch. He walked over to the cupboard, dragging out a futon from the bottom compartment.

"Tell them both to get in head-first."

The duo looked at each other hesitantly, and Lelouch grabbed the stun gun from Kaguya, letting the forked tongues of lightning and the sizzling hisses fill the room, causing both men to flinch and comply with the orders.

Once the two had inched all the way into the futon, Lelouch rolled them into the cupboard and slammed it shut.

He glanced at his watch. Still ten minutes left.

"Kaguya… there's still too much time. There's no way they'll wait for ten minutes, we're going to need to deal with at least one more," hypothesized Lelouch.

"Nee, Lelouch…" began Kaguya quietly, poking his shoulder. "Can't we just … run?"

"What? That's ridiculous!" sputtered Lelouch. "That's..."

He trailed off, staring at her. What she was saying actually made sense. This wasn't chess – there was nothing preventing them from fleeing the board.

She patted his shoulder, mistaking his silence.

"Don't worry, Suzaku will be okay. They won't kill him," consoled Kaguya.

He nodded.

"Okay, let's go."

They quickly made their way to the back of the house and left, heading into the forest.

A few minutes later, they arrived at a small clearing.

"This is probably far enough," commented Lelouch.

They waited in silence for a while, and before long, Lelouch's phone began to vibrate. He pulled it out and handed it to Kaguya.

She talked for about a minute, then told Lelouch, "It's safe now, we can go back."

He nodded once again, following her back towards the house. Once they turned the corner, he noticed a veritable army of men in black suits headed by a very irate-looking Kirihara.

As soon as he noticed them, Kirihara barked orders at two of the men next to him, who quickly made their way towards Lelouch and Kaguya.

Once the two had reached them, they sunk to their knees in front of Kaguya and bowed so that their foreheads touched the ground. Lelouch realized that they were the two guards from earlier, and he recognized one of them as Kondo, though he couldn't quite remember the other's name.

He watched as Kaguya walked over to Kirihara and began talking with him, gesturing furiously and raising her voice.

Before long, she made her way back to Lelouch.

"Let's head back to the house, I'm tired," said Kaguya cheerfully, pulling him away.

"Wait, what's going on?" asked Lelouch, resisting.

"I wish you hadn't asked," whispered Kaguya with a sigh. She jerked her head behind her. "I managed to convince Kirihara-ojiichan not to… get rid of them. They're going to get punished."

"What kind of punishment?" asked Lelouch curiously.

She stopped dragging him by the arm towards the house, making a slashing motion on the pinky of her left hand with the pointer finger on her right.

"What? He's going to _cut off_ their fingers?" he stammered.

"Well, not really… they'll cut it off themselves," said Kaguya.

She raised her pointer finger up in front of his lips, silencing any further protests.

"I don't expect you to understand… I don't like it either. But this is the way they do things," she stated.

He swallowed, looking down at his feet.

The Japanese were really quite crazy sometimes… Britannia prized strength and despised weakness; to _intentionally_ cripple oneself was unthinkable by Britannian standards.

Lelouch let out a yawn, realizing how tired he was. Kidnappings were always a tiresome experience. At least, this time he had remained conscious. That was always a plus in his book. Maybe he would take a nap.

But first he had to order a new computer.

* * *

Kaguya walked in with her arms dangling and eyes lidded, drooping over the table.

"Nee, Lelouch… nemui… tsukareta…," she complained, letting out a sleepy yawn. "Where's Suzaku?"

He looked up from his language textbook.

"Suzaku wa honya e ikimashita," enounced Lelouch carefully.

"You should use ni, not e," commented Kaguya.

"Damned Japanese grammar, completely nonsensical and absurd," scowled Lelouch, "By the way, where did you go?"

"Ever since that incident a few months ago, Kirihara-ojiichan's been insistent on me going to all the Kyoto Rokuka meetings… but all they ever do is complain!" she grumbled.

"Kyoto Rokuka…? Six… houses… of Kyoto?" puzzled Lelouch.

She nodded. "What a pretentious name, no? Kubouin-san won't stop whining about the government's plan, he keeps exaggerating about how his business will go under or something…"

"What government plan…?" inquired Lelouch, interest piqued.

Kaguya rolled her eyes. "Who cares? It's just stupid politics…"

"Kaguya-sama, please grace me with your knowledge," requested Lelouch.

She giggled and continued, "Well, Japan is apparently going to impose export tariffs on Britannia. Since th-"

Lelouch got to his feet immediately, powering on his laptop.

"What are you doing?" asked Kaguya.

"Making a fortune," replied Lelouch nonchalantly.

"What?"

He paused briefly, turning to look at her.

"Japan is the world's largest sakuradite exporter. You said they're planning to put tariffs on exports to Britannia. Computers, phones, cameras, cars, and so on – they all use sakuradite. When the price of sakuradite goes up, the price of all those things go up too. They're going to lose a ton of money," explained Lelouch.

She took in the explanation, then glared at him.

"But… that's cheating! You can't do that! No one's supposed to know yet!" exclaimed Kaguya.

"Which is exactly why I can make money off this," said Lelouch.

"You're going to make tons of money, no? I want some," demanded Kaguya.

"What!? But you're already rich…" he protested.

"But it's _my_ information, right? So I deserve some of it. Like… at least half."

"_Half?_ Are you crazy?" protested Lelouch.

She patted his shoulder with a smile on her face. "Then you'll just have to earn more to make up for my share, no? I'm going to take a bath, see you later."

As she walked out of the room, he sighed. Lelouch wasn't willing to chase after her – he knew very well that arguing with her was a losing battle.

* * *

"Earlier today, His Majesty Charles announced an official declaration of war on Japan, in retaliation to the protectionist measures it has undertaken against Britannia lately. In his speech, he declared an intention to incorporate Japan into the Empire as Area Eleven. At th-"

Impossible. Lelouch swore, closing the news video stream. It was _too_ early. He opened several tabs, double-checking news articles and annual reports. Fareham Industries wasn't ready. There was no way they could possibly have produced enough Knightmare Frames for the invasion, they hadn't had enough time. After all, they had only been awarded the contrast less than a year ago.

A thought struck Lelouch.

It was possible that the contract was merely a front, that the bulk of production had been undertaken by another group. Perhaps his son's death had weakened Duke Fareham's influence enough for another major industrialist to worm his way into the lucrative armaments industry.

Regardless, now he needed to accelerate his plans to compensate.

But how?

Kaguya stormed into the room, interrupting his thoughts.

"Suzaku no baka! Baka baka Suzaku!" she ranted angrily. "I don't need him anyway. Lelouch, you're coming instead!"

"Sorry, I'm busy," refused Lelouch.

She clasped her hands together.

"Please? I really, really need your help," begged Kaguya. "I need to bring a partner for the party."

"Happy birthday, by the way. Why do you need a partner, anyway?" replied Lelouch, without looking up from his laptop.

She rolled her eyes.

"A bunch of important people will be there, like the Kyoto Houses and those kind of people, so it's very formal, so I have to bri-"

The thought irked him immensely. He had spent a lifetime under the eyes of filthy and inhuman nobility, with their despicable gazes, always judging, always watching. They looked down on people like they were trash, even each other, except when they saw someone more powerful, more wealthy, more influential – and then they simpered away, pandering at their feet. It was disgusting.

He paused for a moment, an idea coming to mind. It was dangerous, but with the onset of war, he would have to have to take some risks. After another fifteen seconds of silence, he finally opened his mouth.

"Kaguya… I'll accept on one condition – you introduce me to the other Kyoto Houses," he proposed.

She tilted her head.

"What? Why do you want to meet those old geezers? Well, okay…"

The prince glanced at his watch.

"How much time do we have?"

"Um… we have to go in about one and a half hours," said Kaguya.

Lelouch frowned, running it over in his head.

It wasn't enough time. He needed to research, to plan, to prepare. They wouldn't take him seriously otherwise.

It was time for some shortcuts.

"I need a favor… Kaguya, please tell me who the rest of the Kyoto Houses are and everything you know about them," asked Lelouch.

"Eh… that's supposed to be secret… I'm not allowed to do that…" complained Kaguya.

"Please, this is really important. I'll do anything," he begged.

"Okay, I'll take a rain check on that. Don't forget!" she reminded him.

Fifteen minutes later, she was done.

"I'm going to get changed now! You can wear Suzaku's suit, I'll tell Kondo-san to bring it for you," said Kaguya, running off.

He spent the next hour productively, going over his plan and reworking his proposal.

Before long, Kaguya came back.

She wore a full-length red dress with silver trim and long white gloves. The wild grin on her face contrasted sharply with her formal wear.

As he looked up, he gazed at her quietly, and nostalgia swept his face.

"You remind me of someone I once knew… not much older than you… she was as cheerful and exuberant as you… truly a black sheep among my relatives," muttered Lelouch.

"I'd like to meet her one day," she replied.

He shook his head.

"Let's go."

The car journey felt all too short as Lelouch replayed the scenario in his head. There were so many things that could go wrong, so little time to plan and prepare.

Once they arrived at the venue, Kaguya spent the next twenty minutes dragging him around to greet and meet various dignitaries.

The Minister of Transport, a member of the Diet, a governor, so on and so forth as the list grew longer. He hardly paid attention, butterflies growing in his stomach as he mentally steeled himself for the upcoming confrontation.

Soon, they entered a private dining room to the side, and Kaguya poked him.

"You wanted to meet them, right? Here we are."

She then scowled and stamped her foot angrily.

"Kirihara-ojiichan, what are you doing!? I _told_ you those masks look stupid! Take that off, _now_!" shrieked Kaguya.

Five men sat side by side, dimly illuminated by glowing lamps on the sides of the room. The left-most man chuckled loudly, taking off his mask. Lelouch recognized him as Kirihara, having met him several times at Suzaku's house.

"Oh ho ho," chuckled Kirihara, turning to his left. "It is as she says."

Lelouch stepped forwards.

"I would suggest the rest of you follow suit. I'm not here to play games," said Lelouch.

"How dare you-" threatened a retainer to his left, taking a step towards Lelouch.

He held up one hand and the man stopped, stunned by the sheer arrogance of the action.

"Shall I name names, then? Kubouin Co. One of the largest producers of electronic goods in Japan. Munakata Corporation. This very building was built by your construction company. Osakabe Ltd. A fleet of armored cars, the favorite of banks. Yoshino Group. Agricultural and alcohol. And of course, Kirihara Industries and the Sumeragi Concern."

The men all took off their masks, scowling at him. It was time to back off slightly and allow them to regain a sense of control over the situation.

"Of course, I merely followed the paperwork – Sumeragi owns Mt. Fuji land, leased to Kirihara for mining. Kubouin buys sakuradite from Kirihara for use in electronics, while Munakata builds for Sumeragi-owned land. I suppose anyone could have done it. I have to admit though, I can't figure out what connection Osakabe and Yoshino have to the rest."

This was a bluff, of course. He hadn't followed any paperwork, but instead begged Kaguya for the information. As such, the bone he was throwing to sooth their egos was a mere falsehood.

Kirihara stroked his chin.

"You see, Osakabe-san and I… have an understanding about Yakuza activities in Kyoto. Yoshino-san has… exclusive distribution rights to the restaurants under our… protection," explained Kirihara.

"Well, I have a business proposal to make," continued Lelouch, "I'm sure you're aware that Britannia declared war on Japan this morning. This plan rests on one key assumption – defeat is inevitable-"

"How dare you!" roared Osakabe, climbing to his feet.

"How naïve can you possibly be?" mocked Lelouch. "Britannia is a superpower that controls a third of the world. Japan doesn't hope to stand a chance."

Kirihara nodded. "It is as the boy says, Osakabe-san. As distasteful as it is, we were already considering that possibility just now, no?"

Osakabe sat back down, grumbling, and Lelouch carried on.

"I'm not here to tell you how best to emerge from the war unscathed. I'm sure you have people better paid and more experienced than I for that. However, I do offer something that no one else can."

"Oh ho, what's that, boy?" asked Kirihara in amusement.

"Let me ask you, how many Britannians do you have in your employ?"

Kirihara dipped his head slightly, acknowledging the point.

"A front company will allow the Kyoto Houses to continue publically supporting the Japanese government's war efforts without being accused of traitors. And if that company is headed by a Britannian, even if only in name, it will certainly make things… convenient after the war."

"Yes, having a Britannian in our indirect employ would have… advantages. But why _you_? Any old Britannian will do," challenged Munakata.

Lelouch waved a hand, dismissing his concerns nonchalantly.

"And what connections does _any_ _old_ Britannian possess? I grew up in Pendragon, surrounded by the elite of society," he claimed.

Another bluff. He was estranged, little better than an exile. The vi Britannia branch had lost what little influence it had with the death of his mother and his sister.

He could see that Kubouin and Munakata were somewhat convinced, and he suspected that Kirihara was willing to give him a chance. Naturally, he could count on Kaguya's support. However, Osakabe and Yoshino still had frowns on their faces.

"Tell me, Osakabe-san. What chance do you think your security company stands after the war? No Britannian bank will trust you."

Osakabe sneered. "What do you know of me, boy? I will survive."

"Do you know who the primary test pilot was for the third-generation Knightmare? My mother, Marianne vi Britannia. I can put you in contact with Mr. Ashford of the Ashford Foundation, who designed the Ganymede. Not even the police in the Britannian homeland have Knightmares yet – I'm betting your company's services would be popular with the wealthy nobles who move here after the war. The blueprints for the fourth-gen Frame are a closely guarded military secret, you'll never get your hands on them."

Osakabe leaned over to Kirihara, and they had a whispered, heated discussion.

After a few minutes, Kirihara looked at Lelouch.

"For a long time, Osakabe-san and I have had trouble making inroads into the east. Although we control Kansai, the Yakuza in Tokyo don't get along with us. If you remember the kidnapping incident from earlier this year, those were Kisaragi's men, and he controls a major group in Tokyo. Perhaps you will succeed where we have failed," he said.

"Oh? You would throw me to the dogs?" questioned Lelouch.

"Death seems to follow you, and yet you shake it off easily. Osakabe-san isn't convinced that it isn't just luck. Would you care to prove him wrong?" challenged Kirihara.

"It's a deal. I'll return when I've swept out the trash," sneered Lelouch arrogantly.

"You can't do that, Lelouch. You'll get killed!" whispered Kaguya furiously.

"We'll be sending you to Shinjuku then, boy. Munakata-san has been… frustrated over his constant failure to win construction bids there."

He could see the unsaid dismissal and turned around, walking out of the dining room. A victorious grin formed on his face as he left the building, ignoring Kaguya's protests.


	7. Ride of the Valkyries

A/N: Please note that unlike in previous chapters, the dialogue spoken in Japanese will be written in English in this chapter. This trend is likely to follow in later chapters.

* * *

"And now I have the pleasure of holding an exclusive interview with General Bartley Aspirus, the commander leading our invasion of Japan."

As nothing happened, the news anchor glanced off to one side, uncertainty flitting across her face. All of a sudden, her lips curled into a photogenic smile complete with dazzling, white teeth.

"Sorry for the delay! We've got a live feed to the General now," explained the woman, "Hello, General! So how are things going over there in Japan?"

Bartley swaggered into view, dressed in full military uniform with a panoply of shiny medals and awards pinned onto his chest and shoulders.

"Things couldn't be going better," boasted the general, "in fact, at this rate, I daresay I might set a record!"

"That's reassuring to hea-"

Suddenly, the video display featuring Bartley shook violently, and the anchor looked off-screen once again.

"Sorry, folks, it looks like we may be having technical trouble," she said.

Bartley chuckled, waving his hand. "No, no, my dear. That was just an explosion on my side!"

"Oh my! Are you all right, General?" asked the anchor.

"No worries, I'm not in any immediate danger. In any case, I'm not afraid to risk my life for the sake of Britannia!" declared Bartley.

His head moved in an almost imperceptible nod, his gaze not quite focused on the camera, and the shaking stopped.

"So, General," she continued, glancing down briefly at the paper on her desk, "We've heard rumors that you've attempted an assault on oh-kee-na-wah, a southern island in Japan. How did that go?"

"It's pronounced oh-kee-na-wee, my dear," drawled Bartley, "In fact, right now we have the main government building on the island surrounded! I predict we'll have taken over this island by nightfall. All in under forty-eight hours!"

She nodded. "So things went well then?"

"Of course, my dear. Britannia has never lost a war, and I plan to continue that trend. The Japanese were no match for Britannian steel and strategy! I don't see why we'll have any trouble on the mainland."

"General, what are your plans now that you have established a presence on Okinawa? How do you plan to proceed?" asked the anchor, once again looking down at her notes.

Bartley smirked, one hand reaching up to rub his chin. "It's simple, my dear. We will use this island as a base of operations to launch an assault on the rest of the nation! Frankly, it's simply a matter of time before we've won!"

"That's reassuring to hear, General!" she replied, "Now let me ask the question that everyone's been waiting to hear. Did the performance of the Knightmare Frame – the military's worst-kept secret - live up to hype? Last night we saw the release of a low-quality amateur video on YouPipe go viral, with over ten million views by this morning. If you aren't aware, it shows something resembling a Knightmare Frame single-handedly take on several tanks and come out unscathed! Could you confirm whether this video is a hoax or not? Is the Knightmare Frame truly capable of something like that?"

Bartley crossed his arms confidently, raising an eyebrow.

"That video does not do justice to the Knightmare Frame – it is everything you could imagine… and more. The Knightmare Frame will change the face of the battlefield. I have every confidence in the future of the Knightmare Frame," he claimed.

She leaned back, dramatically exhaling in disbelief.

"That's incredible!" gushed the anchor, "moving on, I'd like to ask when you foresee the surrender? How long do you think it'll take before the war comes to an end?"

"A matter of weeks," he replied immediately, no hesitation in his tone.

As she opened her mouth to ask another question, he stood up abruptly.

"Sorry, my dear, but duty calls. I must cut this interview short," said Bartley.

She nodded in understanding. "Thank you for your time, General! All Hail Britannia!"

"All Hail Britannia," replied Bartley with a salute as the video feed cut off.

She turned back towards the camera and smiled, "This was Anna Eastwood, BBS news. Good night!"

-oOo-

"It's so hot man… I can't do this anymore…" complained Tamaki for the nth time.

Ohgi frowned, turning back to rebut Tamaki once again. "Look, I've already explained it before. This is the only place in the neighborhood still hiring, with a lot of places closed because of the war…"

Tamaki rolled his eyes, snorting out loud. "Why do we have to go here anyways when we can just join the army?"

Naoto reached out and placed one hand on Tamaki's shoulder. "C'mon, bro. You know Ohgi's right. It's too dangerous, you don't want to get sent to fight at Okinawa, right?"

"You're right, boss man," he replied, acceding to Naoto's argument, "I hear those Brits have fancy robots and stuff."

Ohgi smiled weakly.

"Thanks as always Naoto, you're way better at talking to people than me."

The trio stood in a long line of people that snaked down the sidewalk. As it was midday, the sweltering sun beat down upon them mercilessly, causing them to be drenched in sweat and perspiration. Yet they had suffered in silence (with the exception of Tamaki) for well over an hour, risking boredom and dehydration. And now the culmination of their efforts bore fruit; they finally stood at the head of the queue, right in front of the building.

An uneasy, anxious smile crossed Ohgi's face, and he stepped forwards hesitantly.

"Wish me luck… it's my turn now."

As he crossed the threshold and entered the building, a woman dressed in business attire stepped up to him and directed him to a room to the left, about ten meters down the hallway.

He nervously made the distance, slowly reaching his destination and opening the door.

"Come in."

Inside, he noticed a young boy, possibly anywhere from ten to thirteen, leaning back against his chair with crossed legs rested on the table in front of him. Like the woman he had met previously, the boy was also dressed in formal wear, with tinted, reflective sunglasses which left Ohgi unable to see his eyes.

"Take a seat."

As Ohgi stepped around the chair and sat down gingerly, he laid a manila folder on the table.

"What's that?" asked the boy curiously.

"My resume," explained Ohgi nervously.

"You're hired," came the immediate reply.

"Wha-?" stammered Ohgi, thrown for a loop.

The boy rolled his eyes, taking his legs off the table and sitting up straight. "I was only half-joking. You wouldn't believe how many idiots have stepped into this office already. You're only the fifth person to actually have brought along a cover letter. It's absolutely ridiculous - a quarter of them were even high-school dropouts! How low do they think my standards are?"

As his voice rose in volume, he had unwittingly transitioned from Japanese into English mid-rant.

"I can speak English, by the way," interrupted Ohgi in English.

Lelouch stared at him, at a loss for words. He then raised clenched fists to the level of his chest, tilting his head up towards the heavens in silent triumph.

"You're hired. I'm serious."

Ohgi shook his head disbelievingly. "But you don't know anything about me! I only sat down a minute ago…"

Lelouch shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, pressing a button on his desk.

"Trust me, you've had a longer interview than most of the people before you. I'll just read your resume for the details."

The woman from before stepped in and escorted Ohgi out, half-supporting and half-dragging him as he seemed to have difficulty processing the events of the past couple minutes.

"Bring in the next one, Nakada-san," said Lelouch as she left the room, and she acknowledged his words with a nod.

Before long, another man stepped into the room, taking a seat and beginning to introduce himself.

"Don't tell me, you can speak English too," questioned Lelouch sardonically.

"Um… yes," replied Naoto.

The boy leaned forward, face-planting into the desk in front of him.

"Inconceivable! Why couldn't this have happened when I was interviewing the first twenty…" grumbled Lelouch. "Don't tell me you're with the guy from before?"

"We're friends…" provided Naoto as an explanation.

"You speak Britannian English… there isn't any trace of a Japanese accent, unlike with your friend. How? Where did you study?" questioned Lelouch.

Naoto averted his gaze uncomfortably.

"My… step-father… you might have heard of him… Stadtfelt."

"A Duke, if I recall correctly. But that begets the question; why are you _here_?" pressed Lelouch.

"I… I'd like to make it on my own. I don't want to rely on _his_ name," whispered Naoto.

Lelouch stared at him, then nodded, once again pressing the much-abused button on his desk.

"You're in."

Naoto nodded gratefully and stood up, following the woman out of the room.

He waited quietly for a minute, rhythmically tapping his fingers on the surface of his desk, until another man poked his head into the room, then withdrew it in a hurry, as if he had been burned.

His patience began to wither as he continued to wait for another five minutes, until Nakada finally manhandled the man from earlier into the room.

As Lelouch opened his mouth to speak Japanese, he was quickly cut off.

"Why's there a little Brit kid here? Is this a penalty game show? I, the great Tamaki, won't be fooled so easily, you know! Where's the camera?" he shouted while glancing wildly at the walls and corners of the room.

"I'm sorry?" whispered Lelouch, in a deathly quiet tone.

Tamaki sneered.

"You're good at acting, aren't you? Pretending you don't know what's going on. But I'm not stupid, you know!"

Lelouch leaned back into his chair, face covered by the palm of his left hand, his right pressing the button on his desk.

"I'm getting too old for this…" he muttered tiredly.

When Nakada stepped into the room, she did a double-take at the man who, by now, was crawling under the desk mumbling about hidden cameras.

"Get rid of the monkey," pleaded Lelouch in English.

She nodded and drew her sleeves up to her forearms, grasping Tamaki by the ankles and dragging him out of the room.

He exhaled, enjoying the moment of solitude that followed. Once she re-entered, he shook his head slowly.

"You know, Nakada-san, I should mention how much of a godsend you've been. I don't know where I'd be without you… I'm surprised old man Kirihara was willing to let you go."

"He is a pervert," stated Nakada flatly, "I informed him that I would be coming here until he has learned his lesson. Perhaps a raise will delay my return."

Lelouch snorted. "I get the hint. But you know we don't have much revenue yet. I can only pay you so much."

"I am well aware. Kaguya-ojousama vouched for you... and that will do for now," she replied. "But I do expect my salary to grow alongside the company profits."

The door suddenly flew open with a loud bang, causing both of them to turn their attention to Tamaki storming in, followed by Ohgi and Naoto.

"Please… give him another chance. I'll vouch for him. He'll take any job! Anything's fine!" begged Ohgi, while Naoto covered Tamaki's mouth, keeping him from speaking.

Lelouch raised an eyebrow skeptically – an action missed by the trio due to his tinted, reflective sunglasses. However, Nakada caught the gesture.

"It seems… a monkey has escaped the zoo, Lelouch-sama. Please allow me to return it."

He raised a hand to stop her.

"It seems you're well aware of how… underqualified your friend is. You said 'anything', didn't you? Tell me… would he be willing to work uncompensated for a trial period?" suggested Lelouch.

Ohgi nodded furiously, while Naoto elbowed Tamaki in the side repeatedly, until he reluctantly mumbled his agreement.

As they left, Lelouch smirked. "You see, Nakada-san. Even an untrained monkey has its uses."

"Lelouch-sama… you're well aware that our legal department is lacking," she cautioned.

He waved his hand dismissively. "The Japanese government has bigger concerns than a few minimum wage violations..."

She tilted her head, acknowledging the point. He took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and slid it across the table.

"By the way, I'd like you to handle this. Off the books, of course."

She unfolded the paper, spending a few seconds to skim it.

"Why… corn futures, of all things?" she asked.

Lelouch's smirk grew wider, and he leaned forward. "I'm sure you're well aware of the growing ultranationalist sentiment within the military; their hardline fanaticism exceeds anything I could have possibly expected. Make no mistake, a Japanese defeat is all but inevitable, but it will certainly not be as easy at that fool Bartley claims."

"Yes, but I still don't see what this has to do with corn…"

"Only a few months ago, the new Britannian MREs started using cornbread only," continued Lelouch. "Lobbyists truly are a frightening thing, aren't they?"

"Ah… I see. Within a few months, this investment will certainly deliver a productive yield," she quipped.

He shook his head. "Your puns are as terrible as always, Nakada-san…"

"Perhaps my humor will rise with my salary, Lelouch-sama. Your next interviewee awaits."

As she stepped out, he sighed.

He had never imagined work would be this painful, mind-numbing and dull. How many more idiots would stumble through his doors?

Lelouch sighed once more, steeling himself for yet another long day.

-oOo-

Miyamoto drew a card into his hand, swearing loudly.

"I fold," he grumbled, tossing the hand onto the table.

He was sitting at a table next to a makeshift barricade, playing guard duty for a highway in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but play cards with a bunch of idiots.

The government had drummed up nationalist sentiment, crying outrage at the Britannian invasion and promising to defend the homeland. Unfortunately, that meant they needed more soldiers. Apparently the battle in Okinawa wasn't going so well, and the Britannians had even begun to encroach into the mainland, if rumors were to be believed.

Miyamoto had been one of the lucky few selected for emergency draft in his district. In the first place, he was really just a farmer's boy who lived in the middle of nowhere – he would have been happy to continue his family's legacy while complaining about the lack of girls in his rural town. But the government didn't care one whit about that, all they wanted was another able-bodied young man who could carry a gun and point it in the right direction.

They had shoved him into boot camp, an accelerated one week program where he had learned very little of value and still had no idea how to shoot his gun accurately, before being dumped out here. Well, if he was lucky, they wouldn't meet anyone. It was quite literally the middle of nowhere – hours could pass by without a single car coming through for them to stop and inspect, especially with the war ramping up.

To be honest, if a force of Britannians actually came down the highway, he'd probably do a runner and try to make it into the forest nearby. There was no way in hell their team of six could fend off anything, not with rifles and grenades. They had also been allocated one antiquated tank, which was fairly useless, since none of them knew how to operate it and its main gun didn't work anymore.

One idiot sitting across from him, Hidaki, seemed firmly convinced that Britannia would run away with their tails tucked between their legs. He claimed that Japan had never lost a war in history, and some other crap that Miyamoto hadn't bothered listening to. Although Miyamoto was just a country hick, he knew that this guy was, simply put, an idiot.

The only higher-ranked member of the team was their leader Matsuda, a Private First Class. He was a patriotic idiot who ranted about saving Japan and glory and freedom and the like. To be honest, Miyamoto was pretty sure nobody liked him, not even Hidaki. The rest of them were freshly-conscripted Privates, though, which meant that officially he was in charge.

If Miyamoto couldn't do get away from the battle, he'd probably throw down his gun and surrender, regardless of what their leader said. It's not like he knew how to use it anyway!

Lost in his thoughts, he gazed off into the distance.

Slowly, he realized that there was a small far-off dot in the background, slowly approaching.

As he squinted his eyes, shielding his face from the oppressive sun, he could make out the hazy figure of large robots on wheels rapidly approaching them.

"What the hell? Hey guys…"

"What do you want, Miyamoto? Still bitter that you suck at cards?" taunted Hidaki.

He rolled his eyes, ignoring the immature taunt. "Do you see that?" he asked, pointing down the highway.

The team turned to stare, before Matsuda dived for his radio, notifying Command of the situation. The rest of them grabbed their guns hesitantly, ducking behind the barricade for cover.

As they came closer, he could make out more detail. Each robot towered over them, dwarfing even the unmanned and abandoned tank beside him. There were three in total, speeding down the highway in a triangle formation, with one taking point and the other two trailing behind.

Once they reached a point about five hundred meters away, one man on the far side of the barricade – Miyamoto was on the edge of the left side, the man was on the right – raised his rifle over the top of the barricade and began firing on full-auto.

This caught the attention of the giant robots, who turned their enormous guns on the barricade and begun firing.

As Miyamoto started sprinting for the forest, metal, plastic and flesh were all demolished behind him, torn apart by simple physics. He ignored the screams, panting heavily as his lungs burned and his legs weakened. A chunk of shrapnel whizzed by, cutting his cheek. He turned reflexively, and he saw a giant metal foot as large as their antiquated tank stomp into the earth barely a meter from him. He quickly lost his balance as the earth shook around him.

Miyamoto threw his rifle aside and covered his head with his hands, groveling in the dirt and trembling in fear. The robot towered over him like a skyscraper, its foot could have crushed him like a bug. The rifle would do him no good, even if he knew how to operate it.

Seconds passed, and then the robot took another step, then another, before the wheels on its heel redeployed and it continued accelerating down the highway, trailed by its companions.

As he looked up from his prone position, he could see the splattered remains of his comrades, the empty husk of the tank, and the shattered bits of the barricade. His team had not been the focus of their fire, they had simply been in the way. The whole battle – if it could be called that – had lasted under twenty seconds.

A terrifying typhoon had swept through the area, leaving only devastation in its wake.

And he had survived.

-oOo-

"Suzaku!" growled Tohdoh, stomping into the room.

The boy in question looked up in concern. Tohdoh was always calm, quiet, and measured, like a mountain in a storm. To hear desperation in his voice was as unthinkable as imaginable as a stone getting angry, and yet it was plain to hear from his tone.

"I told you to move a minute ago!" he roared angrily.

Tohdoh grabbed Suzaku by the arm and dragged him out the door roughly, sweeping him into a fireman's carry and sprinting for the car.

He threw the boy into the backseat before leaping behind the wheel himself and hightailing the car out of the residence. All the other servants had left minutes ago.

"What's going on, Sensei?" asked Suzaku, frightened.

Tohdoh said nothing.

The car accelerated, bumping over the gravel.

Suzaku asked once again.

The car made its way to concrete, and Tohdoh accelerated to speeds that would be illegal on a highway.

Suzaku quickly buckled his seatbelt, turning his head back to look at the Kururugi Shrine.

And then his home exploded.

A fiery blast engulfed the building, tearing apart the wooden structure and leaving behind only burning debris.

Suzaku stopped asking.


End file.
